


The Heart of a Good Woman

by Wonderdyke



Series: Romancing the Seeker [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Romance, F/M, Feels, Happy Ending, Oral Sex, Pining, Poetry, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smut, casarric, seriously romantic feels within
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-02-24 06:12:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13207674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonderdyke/pseuds/Wonderdyke
Summary: Varric knows he's crazy about the Seeker, has been since she put her knife through his book.  He also knows he has a nug's chance in the open ocean of winning her affections.  Dwarves like him didn't get happily-ever-afters, not with women like her.  Not that it stopped him from looking.





	1. Love Takes Hostages

**Author's Note:**

> Questions, comments, concerns? Want to flame me or beg for more chapters? You can contact me via tumblr: wonderdyke.tumblr.com
> 
> This work is dedicated to my lovely wife Sophia who is the Cassandra to my Varric, my fierce romantic warrior and lover.

Varric was in complete and utter shit.  He’d known it since Haven.  Hell, since before Haven.  That everyone around him seemed to swallow the bullshit of his animosity towards the Seeker was a mercy that he did not question.

The Seeker was a good woman, his realization shocked him probably more than anyone as he was intent on disliking her.  But, it was clear in the way she defended the Divine and defended the world after the Divine’s death that she was as fiercely principled as any he was likely to find.  What that meant was that Varric had exactly a nug’s chance in the ocean of winning her affections.  

Not that he wanted to? Surely.  

The Seeker - for that was all he would call her for fear that her name would never leave his lips once spoken.  She was, for all her barbed comments and rough nature, a woman with a soft heart.  A heart too virtuous for him to hold.  Dwarves like him didn’t get the girl, not when the girl was a woman like her.

Truth was he was a bit of a masochist when it can to these things - although not the kind Tiny and Sparkler dabbled in and all of Skyhold has overheard.  No, his weakness was unavailable women: emotionally or otherwise and he probably couldn’t find one woman less likely to be unavailable to him than she.

 _Maker_ , she’d put a knife through _Tale of the Champion_ and he’d woken up hard and aching for weeks.  Now everytime her eyes landed on him her nostrils flared in disgust.  It had been rougher since she’d found out about Hawke, something he was still paying for.

The worst part was not what she did to the flesh between his legs, he was used to it having a mind of its own as most men were no matter their stature.  No, the worst part was what she was doing to his prose.

He felt himself wanting to write, not just love letters, but _love poetry_.  The kind that was so sappy and saccharine he might as well wipe his ass with it as publish it.  He hadn’t put a word to page in weeks that he hadn’t tossed immediately in the fire.  It was better to hide the evidence.

Of course, oblivious to his private hells, the Inquisitor dragged him and the Seeker out together more than was strictly necessary.  The reason? They fought good together.  Even a blind lyrium miner could see that.

Amidst the height of the chaos of battle she had a sense of him, of where he’d be even as he leapt away from enemies.  He had long ago lost his surprise at how she seemed to know just when to drop her shoulder so he could shoot an approaching enemy or how she would pin them to her, turning so he could land a killing bolt.  The way she danced and parried in the ruin of a battlefield was a thing of beauty - the ballroom she was made for rather than the silks and satins she was born to.

“Varric?” _Speak of the devil and she shall appear_.

“Yes, Seeker?” He asked, looking up from the empty page to find her standing across fidgeting with her sword.

“I wish to… apologise for what happened before.”

 _Maker,_ it’s been weeks - water under the bridge as far as he was concerned. But she was here nervously rocking from foot to foot like a child called to task, it’d be cruel not to hear her out.

He kicked the chair out across from him, its feet scraping as it slid on the stone floor. “Have a seat.”

She sighed heavily, dropping into the offered place.  “I wish to…” she stared, transfixed at some spot on the wall just above his head.

“Seeker, if you’re gonna apologise least you could do is look me in the eyes.”

Her grey eyes slid down to lock with his and _shit_ he really shouldn’t have asked that.  She looked, not put upon but vulnerable.  ‘Eyes are windows to the soul’ and all that crap.  That look on her face sent an unbidden tremor through his body, twisting something low and primal in his belly that made him want to come around the table and kiss it off her face.  He was so lost in the sensation he barely remembered what she’d said next.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you.  Had it been my…. friend I was protecting undoubtedly I would have done the same.”

“You have ‘friends’, Seeker?” he taunted, hoping to turn the wide-eyed woman next to him back into the stony warrior.

Instead, Maker curse him, a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth in embarrassment.  “Yes, I do, Varric.  No doubt they find me as trying to deal with as do you, but I have them.”

“Look,” he blundered ahead, hoping now only to end this conversation so he could go relieve the ache in his trousers the woman across from him was causing, “I fucked up too.”  

She chortled at that, as if it were the most obvious statement in the world which, hells, it probably was.

“I don’t regret not telling you because I still think there’s not a chance in the Fade that Hawke could’ve saved Most Holy.”

She winced at the mention of the Divine’s honorific.

“And I don’t regret The Inquisitor.”

“For an apology,” she drawled, “this has a remarkable number of caveats.”

“Yeah, well let me finish… I regret that I lied to you.  I’m sorry that when the Inquisitor stepped out of the Fade I didn’t come to you and fess up to my bullshit.  And… I’m sorry I upset you.”  Maker he hadn’t meant to add the last of it.  She was addling his brain even from across the table.

“As it turns out,” she said, smiling at her hands clasped on the rough hewn slab, “I am easy to upset.”

“You’re fierce as a dragon, but that’s half the appeal.”

Her head snapped up, eyes roving over him no doubt looking for evidence of mocking.  Varric was too busy mentally kicking himself to play it off, besides, that would’ve been harsh even for him.

“I hope,” she breathed, locking eyes with him, “that we might be friends.”

Friends? Him and the Seeker. No no no no no no.  That would be very bad.

“I’d like that.” he said instead.

Well he was fucked.

As he watched the retreating back of the Seeker he took long deep breaths, trying to cool the ardor left in her wake.  At least calm himself enough that he could make a withdrawal to his chambers.

“Varric!”

Maker, what now?

The Inquisitor came bounding down the steps of the dais from the undercroft, no doubt.

“Like my new staff?”

She held it out for his inspection.  He had it under good authority that non-dwarves felt something when they touched a staff… even the ones without an ounce of magic.

“It’s very...pretty.” he said.

“Isn’t it?” she clutched it to her chest, the picture of youthful enthusiasm.  “Anyways, heading out to the Oasis tomorrow.  You’re in.  Gotta rout some Venatori sniffing around that temple we uncovered.  Also scouts report concerns about a giant?  Maybe they meant more giant spiders… who knows?”

“Hey boss,” he asked, a horrible feeling curling in his stomach, “who else is going?”

“Sera and maybe…. Cassandra?”  She nodded to herself even as he felt like sinking into the floor.  “Yes, Cassandra.  Bull’s out with the Chargers and Blackwall is still laid out with that injury.”

“Yeah,” he muttered not really hearing her, “sounds good.” Well... shit.

~

“I’m going to bathe,” Cassandra declared, gathering up her clothes before starting down the short hill to Oasis.  That didn’t much surprise him considering she’d been right underneath the giant when he’d gone down splashing blood and filth all over her.

“Don’t go alone,” The Inquisitor ordered, hissing as the healer tightened the bandage on her leg too forcefully.  “No telling if there’s more of those things.”

“Seriously, Inquisitor?” Varric asked, coming to Cassandra’s defense, “You think we couldn’t see another giant.”

“I think,” she hissed as she downed another potion, “That it is dark and the waterfall creates mist and none of us should take chances for the sake of a bath.”

“Don’t worry,” Sera said, hopping down from the cliff wall that wrapped itself around camp, “I’ll watch your back _and_ your front.”

“Ugh.  I would prefer not.” Cassandra groaned.

“What then?” Sera grinned, “Varric gonna do it?  He’d like that.”

Cassandra’s eyes darted to him, the blood draining from her face.

“If you’d like Seeker,” he began even as his mind protested vehemently, “I can stand guard.  I won’t defile your modesty.”  It would be an exquisite torture but he meant what he said.

“I-” Cassandra began before pausing, likely to truly consider his offer and perhaps whether she trusted him; not that he could blame her, he didn’t trust him.

“I would appreciate that, Varric.”

He didn’t let his jaw drop open but it was a near thing.  “Sure thing, let me grab Bianca.”

Sera caught his eye as he turned to leave, wiggling her brows at him.

They headed down the hill in silence, Varric too focused on girding his control to make much small talk.  She jumped from one sandy patch to the next.  Varric was definitely _not_ watching the flex of her legs or the globes of her ass, he wasn’t that stupid.

“Are you coming?” she called from ahead.

 _‘Not yet,’_ he thought even as he waded into the ankle deep water still warm from the day’s heat.  It was even mistier now that the sun had set and the desert temperature had dropped.  He took up position just outside the billowing clouds that wafted off the main fall, giving him enough room to keep an eye out.  A tusket splashed happily nearby.

“Real dangerous,” he muttered to himself.

“I am going to undress now,” Cassandra called out, not that he needed the running commentary, “do not turn around.”

“No problem, Seeker!” he called back, waving a hand around in what he’d hoped was her direction.

Even over the roar of the waterfall he could hear the clang of metal as she removed her plate, his imagination a blessing and a curse as it helpfully created images to what the Seeker might look like without it.  He too wondered if she was bathing in her tunic and smalls or if she was utterly naked just a stone's throw from him.  Varric released his hold on Bianca to shove his knuckles in his mouth, muffling the groan that bubbled up; biting down until he tasted the iron of his own blood even as his ears strained over the roar of the waterfall to catch her contented sigh.

He was suddenly supplied with the image of Cassandra, damp from a recent bath moaning beneath him.  Would she be wanton with need or shy after so long in self-denial?  Was she in self-denial or did she pleasure herself?  He could guess but nothing would be as heady as the truth.

He wanted to free himself from his breeches and release the tension burning inside him but, no, that would be more of a violation than if he turned and watched her without her consent.  He breathed slowly through his nose, releasing his breath in long hissing sighs as he tried to regain some control of his escaping mind.  He focused on his ledgers, numbers he memorized as well as writing down and started going over them line by line until the sheer monotony of it drew him back from the edge.

Scrubbing a hand over his face he drew another long breath, relaxing when he heard the tell-tale signs of the Seeker redressing.

“Thank you, Varric.” she said as she joined him, “Would you like me to stand watch for you?”

The Seeker just feet away while he was as naked as the day the Maker created him, hell no.  “No thanks, Seeker.  Best get to bed, we’ve a long journey back to The Western Approach tomorrow.”

“Speaking of which…” she began, her hand grasping his bicep, “I was wondering if you might consider sharing a tent with me.  I know we’ve had our differences but,” she pinched the bridge of her nose as she stumbled over the words, “I’d rather not share with Sera.  The last time she filled my boots with earthworms.  I can only imagine what 'pranks' I will have to suffer through this time.  And… she snores.”

The image of tiny Sera snoring like a freight train was enough to bring a smile to his lips.  

He should say no.  Already every moment in her presence was a torture what would a whole night spent laying an arms reach away not able to touch do to him?  But the truth was, he would never have said ‘no’ to her.  Not in a million years.  Not if he had to spend all of those years guarding her baths and utterly, painfully celibate.  “Sure, Seeker.”  


	2. Strange Bedfellows

Varric peered into the swirling sands of the Western Approach, seeing the ancient hulking edifice of the fort a mere smudge in the distance.

“What’s this place called again?” he shouted over the persistent whistling of sand on stone, gaining a mouthful of grit in the process.

“Echoback Fort.” The Inquisitor helpfully supplied, “Venatori have been coming and going for ages.  We’re likely going to have to clear them out before we can get our people in.”

They moved through the shifting dunes slowly but none so slow as him.  It seemed his excess bulk made the silt slide at his every step until he was growling in frustration.  It didn’t help that he’d barely slept, every sigh from his tentmate blossoming into erotic frustration.

“Are you alright, Varric?” the Seeker asked when he finally got purchase on some rock ledges and scrambled up behind them.

“Sorry I’m falling behind,” he grumbled.

“That…” she paused, finding the words, “was not what I meant. You seem… unwell.”

“Pissed is more like it.  Can’t these Venatori bastards sulk anywhere civilized?”

She smiled and as cliche as it sounded a bit of the anger riding him slipped away.  “I do not believe that is how it works, but you could always ask.”

He smirked, winking at her, “Think they have a complaint department?”

Her laugh was everything, like crystals tinkling and music and joy bottled.  Maker, that was the most awful thing he ever thought if he’d written it he’d have to burn the pages _and_ the quill.

They continued on, finally finding some level ground that he could move through with more ease but the Seeker remained beside him, chatting amicably about nothing of consequence - it brought a smile to his face.  As they drew near to the fort they fell into silence, the four drawing closer to defend from potential ambush.

“Cassandra!” Varric shouted as the rogue appeared behind her.  He aimed and fired as she spun away, raising her shield.  The bolt landed square in the man’s face sending him sprawling into the dunes, dead before he hit the sands.  There was no time for victory, however, as it was one of many and the Seeker dove into the fray with the wild abandon of a woman at home on the battlefield.

Watching her as she wove among the Venatori was a thing of beauty.  Her style was more fluid than any warrior he’d ever fought with.  He always thought them slow, their movements choppy and harsh.  The long hours the Seeker, no, _Cassandra_ had put into her training had turned her methods into little different from a dance.  Only hers was a dance of metal and blood not satins and silks.  Though what he wouldn't give to see her incredible ass in the soft cling of silk skirts...

He sensed the man behind him before he heard the Inquisitor’s shout, spinning but it was too late, the blades already falling when her fireball smacked the man in the face, sending him sprawling long enough for Varric to leap away.

 _Maker_ but he needed to focus on something other than Cassandra’s glorious ass or he was going to get himself killed.

“Keep it together, dwarf,” Varric muttered to himself, intentionally putting Cassandra in his peripheral vision where she wasn’t quite as distracting.  

They moved through the fort efficiently, leaving the bodies for later when they would check them for useful supplies.  There was a ladder early on that Varric took, giving cover fire from the battlements, especially when they bottlenecked on the stairs.  It wasn’t long before all that was left was the carnage they wrought.  Bodies of the fallen strewn across the sandy stones.

“That was exhilarating,” Cassandra said through heaving breaths as she joined him near the flag pole, “it has been some time since I had such a good battle.”

“And look,” the Inquisitor added, leaning on her staff as she too caught her breath, “we could probably clear out a room or two and sleep indoors tonight.”

“I don’t know,” Varric teased, “too much luxury and Cassandra might go soft.”

She looked at him, a flicker of shock crossing her features which was when he realized he’d called her by her first name, not once but twice.

“Oi!” Sera shouted, despite her nearness, “he’s just teasing.  Doubt one night of anything make you go soft.  No need to look like you swallowed a bug.”

“Yes,” she drawled stiffly, “quite.”

After the Inquisitor raised the flag, no doubt seen by the nearby scouts, they worked their way back through the fort making sure there wasn’t anyone lurking unseen, and gathered supplies off the corpses.  They worked together, piling them outside the gate for a funeral pyre later done in the Tevinter style, let no one say they weren’t merciful to their enemies’ dead; though it did lack the professional mourners.

The sun was beginning to set when the first of the forward scouts arrived, finishing what they had begun.  They’d found two little used rooms to bunk down in, letting the scouts take the night watch as they continued to make the fort ready for the soldiers who would actually hold it.

Varric had turned in early, hoping to fall asleep before the Seeker joined him.  He’d nearly managed it too when the door creaked open and he heard the tell tale signs of Cassandra  undressing, setting her armour aside and curling up in her blankets.  It was long minutes of listening to her breathing, keeping his own steady despite the fluttering in his chest when he heard her whisper, “Varric?”  He didn’t respond, preferring to pretend he was, in fact, asleep.  Whatever she wanted in the middle of the night in such close quarters would do him no favors when he was already exhausted and achingly hard.  She called his name again, and he kept his breath steady, ignoring her.

Her voice was followed not much later by a whisper of clothes, a soft sigh.  His ears strained over the sounds of the desert creatures chirping, the whistle of the wind, the shuffle of soldiers just outside the room.

“Ah,” she sighed again the end hitching up a little.

 _‘What is she doing?’_ Varric wondered to himself even as he heard the wet slide of fingers.   _‘Maker.  Is she…?’_ Varric wondered even as his brain stuttered to a halt when he heard a broken moan.  He gathered up the tails of his tunic, shoving them roughly in his mouth to keep from groaning in response.  He listened in agony as her breathing quickened, his own cock throbbing in time as he listened to the fingers work over herself.  He was no elf or qunari with their superior hearing but he could clearly make out the soft slide of fingers on moist flesh.  How wet was she that he could hear it so clearly?

He was nearly broken, his heart quaking loudly in his ears when her breath hitched, pausing for a moment before hissing out.  She gave a little grunt of pleasure before rolling over in her bed and promptly falling asleep.  Still, Varric waited until her snores were long and even before freeing himself.  It took only a few strokes before he was spilling over his own hands, his body shaking in a way it hadn’t since he’d been a boy.

Once his heart beat slowed he took a moment to remove the evidence and tuck himself away before falling blissfully, deeply asleep.


	3. Silver Tongue

Varric was used to people not noticing him, not looking him in the eye, scanning over him in a crowded room: it came with being a dwarf in a world meant for humans. Not being noticed was good for a lot of things: studying people both good and ill so he could use their personality quirks in his next novel, overhearing conversations or even ducking under a punch in a bar fight. So it was particularly unsettling that the Seeker made an attempt to always look him in the eyes. Clearly, his offhanded comment when she’d been apologizing she’d taken to heart.

She didn’t crouch to look at him eye to eye, nothing so crass. She merely pulled her gaze from whatever she was staring at to include him. Andraste’s tits that shouldn’t make his heart flutter like a schoolgirl.

Except, well… it did. That she was clearly made uncomfortable by it was all the more effecting. Not that he liked to see her uncomfortable but that she was making herself uncomfortable on his behalf… Shit. At some point his feelings on her had shifted; he didn’t know when, maybe after a night in a dark room filled with her soft sighs. It didn’t much matter when it had happened but it had. His feelings had changed from something sharp and carnal to something soft. Something that made his chest ache.

“May I join you?” the woman in question asked standing awkwardly at the corner of the table he’d long ago claimed as his.

Ever since they’d returned from the desert she’d gone out of her way to spend time with him, clearly investing in their newfound ‘friendship’. That all he could remember when he saw her was a stolen moment in a storage room, that every gesture of goodwill from her was twisted in his mind to something that it wasn’t was just further proof that she was a good woman and he was very clearly not a good man.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse even to his own ears as he shuffled papers out of the way to make room for her.

He watched her nimble fingers as they plucked the gloves from her hands, peeling them off to set them at the table before she turned to him, a smile dancing on her lips, “I thought we could have lunch, I so often forget to eat. Is that same true for you, Varric?”

He nodded, the lump in his throat precluding actual speech. She’d said his name, not hard with derision hitting on the final ‘k’ sound like it was one of her practice dummies. No, she’d said it softly, like he might imagine she’d say it in his bed, her accent soft and lilting over the syllables, rolling the last sound til it hit within his chest like distant thunder.

He watched in silence as she waved down a page to fetch something from the kitchens. He grabbed one of the empty mugs that were always perched on the tables waiting for someone to use them and poured her a glass of the honeyed mead he’d been drinking.

“So Seeker,” he began, clearing his throat when his voice choked off, “enjoy being back from the desert?”

She sighed, the sound so similar to the ones she’d made that night that his cock immediately jumped to attention. Void, but he needed to get laid. “I loathe the desert, sand gets… everywhere-” He could imagine the ‘wheres’ she was referring to. “and there’s little balance in temperature. The days are scorching, the nights freezing. Don’t even get me started on the poison springs. If there were a place less conducive to human life I cannot fathom it. Also, please call me ‘Cassandra’, Varric. My title is a bit formal.”

He couldn’t help that his jaw dropped, if only for a brief moment at her request. “Alright… Cassandra.”

“What of you, Varric?” There it was again, his name filled with gentle promises. “How have you been passing time since we’ve returned.”

“Doing a bit of writing,” he hedged, not wanting to tell her he spent his days writing awful letters he’d never send her and taking the edge off the desire which bubbled constantly inside him.

“Oh?” she said suddenly seeming very interested - wasn’t that odd? - before suppressing it. The page returned at that moment with a tray of cold meats and cheeses and some hearty crusty bread for them to munch upon.

She didn’t make much of an effort to hide the fact that she was trying to read the pages he’d set aside upside down. He hid his smile in a mouthful of ham, at least this one didn’t taste of despair.

“I was wondering, perhaps if you had any books I could borrow. I have finished all mine and Dorian mocks me when I ask him.”

He nearly choked on the mouthful of bread he was about to swallow. Apart from magical treatises Sparkler only read one kind of book… and he doubted the Seeker was interested in the more esoteric parts of magical theory. No… couldn’t be.

“Depends,” Varric said, “what kinds of books do you read?” Was she blushing?

“Literature.” He stared at her, that described literally anything. “I prefer things which are lighter in their content - less… depressing-”

She couldn’t possibly…

“Poetry mostly.” she finished awkwardly.

Varric didn’t believe a word. Oh, he believed that she liked poetry but you know who didn’t? The resident Tevinter.

“Have you ever written any poetry?” her voice was so soft as she asked that it was very nearly wistful.

“I’ve dabbled.”

“I would love to read it.” Cassandra said trying and failing to hide her eagerness.

Varric very nearly swallowed his tongue in shock. “Yes… well.” he cleared his throat, “it’s not something I’d really publish. But, I might have a book or two kicking around I could lend you.”

“I’d like that.” The smile she graced him with was genuine as it lit up her face and sparkled in her eyes like the stars hanging over the Waking Sea.

It wasn’t long before Cassandra returned to her duties and he retired quickly to his chambers. He spent that afternoon cursing himself for a fool even as he wrote her a poem, aging and wrinkling it before folding it into a book of poetry he intended to lend to her. He sighed, looking at his handiwork.

“You’re a lovesick fool,” he muttered to himself.

That didn’t stop him from sneaking into her chambers and leaving the book beside her bedroll. Hadn’t she heard of a bed? Or at least a cot? He snuck back to his spot even as she smashed another helpless dummy into the mud.

It was several days before she returned the book without comment, it simply appearing on his table while he was absent. The poem within was not there.

Varric’s mind raced with a thousand questions, ‘Had she known the poem was for her?’, ‘Had she liked it?’, ‘Why keep it?’

Unfortunately only one woman knew the answers to those questions and he was not about to ask her.

“Hello, Inquisitor.” Varric greeted his mind still racing over the mystery of Cassandra and the poem. “What can I do for you?”

“Cassandra,” the young mage grinned, leaning far too casually against the corner of his table, “is waiting for the next issue of Swords and Shields.”

He was far too old for shocks like that, gripping his chest he muttered, “I must have heard that wrong. It sounded like you said ‘Cassandra’ read my books.”

“She’s a pretty big fan, in fact.” the young woman said, grinning.

“Are we talking about the same Cassandra? Tall, grumpy, Seeker? Likes stabbing things?” he asked, flabbergasted. “Wait,” he added as his brain stuttered to keep up, “did you say the romance serial?” Everything was starting to make sense, her interest in his writing. The kinds of books she borrowed from Dorian. “She’ll be waiting for a while then. I haven’t finished it and wasn’t planning to. That book is easily the worst I’ve ever written. The last one barely sold enough copies to pay for the ink.”

Evelyn gave a little pout, “Well, Cassandra seems to be hooked on it.”

“And I honestly thought a hole in the sky was the weirdest thing that could happen. So…” Varric mused, “You want me to finish writing the latest issue of my worst serial… for Cassandra?’

The Inquisitor nodded joyfully while biting her lip, likely to keep from bursting into laughter.

“That’s such a terrible idea, I have to do it. On one condition: I get to be there when you give her the book.”

“Deal.” she said, shaking his hand before quickly retreating.

She didn’t even hear him mutter to himself, “You know the fact that the book is terrible makes it more worthwhile somehow.”

He should have been ashamed how quickly the story flowed through him and onto the page, how easily he found words for the longing crawling under his skin and assigned them to a bard who’d tried to assassinate the guard captain that she subsequently turned into an ally. Was it too bold to have the bard pine for the captain the entire story as she had her heart broken by a dashing handsome warrior? Then at the end, he couldn’t help himself, he had the bard confess his love in a hidden poem.

Half of him hoped she didn’t see the parallels, the other hoped she killed him for this. Even as he opened the package his publisher had returned and signed her copy there was no part of him that actually saw a future for himself and the Seeker.

Before he could give it to her the Inquisitor dragged them both to Halamshiral, Void take them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those curious the original draft of this did have a copy of his poem, "She Walks in Beauty" by Lord Byron. I appropriated the work for Varric since I am very much NOT an incredible poet but I wanted Varric to be. Here is a copy if you're curious:  
> She walks in beauty, like the night / Of cloudless climes and starry skies; / And all that’s best of dark and bright / Meet in her aspect and her eyes;/ Thus mellowed to that tender light/ Which heaven to gaudy day denies. // One shade the more, one ray the less, / Had half impaired the nameless grace / Which waves in every raven tress, / Or softly lightens o’er her face; / Where thoughts serenely sweet express, / How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. // And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, / So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, / The smiles that win, the tints that glow, / But tell of days in goodness spent, / A mind at peace with all below, / A heart whose love is innocent!


	4. Bedlam in Ballgowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I struggled with a bit of writer's block and then there was some chaos in my non writing life. Still Varric and Cassandra demanded their due and I hope I've done them some justice.

He hated Orlais.  Nothing like spending an evening at ass level with the over perfumed upper crust to make a man rethink his life choices.  If it wasn’t masked figures looking down their nose at him it was backhanded comments and overzealous fans.  To top it off he had to watch as the Herald ran here and there while he had to pretend to be interested in one incipient conversation after another.

Not to mention the uniforms.  He looked like a nutcracker.  Leave it to Dorian to design something that looked entirely dashing on the mage and made everyone else look ridiculous.  At least he wasn’t Tiny, the sash on the qunari could’ve double as a tablecloth for one of the many hor d'oeuvres buffets.

Well, Varric corrected himself as he moved through the gardens, not _everyone_.  The Seeker leaned hard against a railing, her eyes closed in the moment of solitude.  If there was one person he could bet fifty sovereigns had a worse night than he, it was the Seeker.  She hadn’t even gotten to hit anything.

Still, she was a vision; the cloth of the trousers clung to her long limbs revealing the curve of her ass in a way he'd never had the presence of mind to appreciate.  He took in the sight of her, the drape of the uniform fitted tightly over her waist and the gloves delicate on her small hands.  He could stand there, fixed to the spot and watch her all night.

As if she felt his gaze she opened her eyes their stormy depths darting to him before relaxing.  

“There you are, “ he grinned, approaching, “Cassandra Allegra Portia Calo-”

“Careful, dwarf.”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, “I couldn’t help myself.  Peace offering?”  He held up the bottle of Antivan brandy he’d bribed a few servants to uncover.  Cassandra was never much of a drinker, despite his best efforts to get her to unwind over a game of Wicked Grace.

She took the offered glass gratefully and downed it in one swallow.  “Forgiven.” she said, holding out the snifter for a refill.  As he poured her eyes scanned over him, lingering on his shoulders.

“See something you like, Seeker?” he teased, ignoring the fluttering caused by her nearness.

“I hardly know what to make of you without the chest hair.”

She stared him down for one moment, then two before cracking a smile.  “Dont worry,” he returned with a wink, “it’s still there anytime you like.”

“Ugh.” she groaned, but there was no heat to it.

“So what are you doing hiding out here?” he asked, leaning his back against the railing rather than trying to peer over it.

“I swear,” she grumbled, “if I have to refuse one more offer of marriage I am going to murder someone.”

“Come now, you wouldn’t do that to Ruffles.”

“Wouldn’t I?” she asked, quirking her eyebrow.  “It is a good thing I am not a mage or else I would’ve set fire to the curtains by now.”

“No need to be a mage, Seeker.  All you needs is a couple of torches, maybe an accelerant... Sera'd be willing.”

“I am not sure we should be encouraging her.” She sighed, “Didn’t you agree to call me ‘Cassandra’?”

“I don’t know, to be the only person without a nickname… People might think you’re special or something.”

She huffed, strolling over to the wall before sliding down it.  “Blessed Andraste,” she groaned in pleasure, “my feet are killing me.”

Varric joined her, sitting across.  He refilled her glass before setting the bottle aside and plucking her booted foot from the ground.

“Varric?” she asked, cocking an eye open from where they had fallen shut.

“Cassandra?” he grinned at her as he pulled off her boot.  “Objections to a foot rub?”

“Actually-” she began before stuttering to a stop a rosy blush coloring her cheekbones, “none.  Thank you.”

“Of course.”  He shot her another wicked grin before digging his thumbs into her arches.  She moaned, the sound so obscene it shot straight to his cock.  The dichotomy of the woman in front of him was not lost; on one hand the fierce warrior, protector, Right Hand of the Divine; on the other a deeply romantic woman prone to blushing, poetry and evidently a lover of foot rubs.  She groaned and hissed as he worked out the knots in her soft skin his rogue’s hands moving deftly over the flesh.  Each glance her shot towards the Seeker showed her in various states of melting into the balcony.

Her eyes flicked open, pinning him to the spot.  Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol.  She pulled her foot away, lunging toward him.  Before he could really get a hold on what was happening her lips were pressed to his, hot and pliant - if chaste.

Varric groaned into her mouth, an arm circling her waist as she straddled his hips.  In this position it highlighted the difference in their heights; she was nearly curled over into herself to hold his face.

 _Maker_ , she was shit at kissing; all fumbling and needy and if that wasn’t the hottest thing in all of Orlais he’d eat his boots.  He broke under the weight of her ardor, parting his mouth and stroking her open with his lips and tongue.  He wanted to push her back, to claim her mouth as easily as she’d claimed his passions.  It was only his knowledge that the Seeker was a flighty thing, not prone to surges of passion…

Not unless…

“Nug’s ass,” he groaned, pulling away.

He regretted the embarrassed flush creeping up her neck, the way she hid her face from him.

“Cassandra…” he soothed, running his hands down her back.  “Any other time I’d happily continue this… wherever this led us…”  His hands found her chin, tilting her face back toward him.  The shameful tears pooling on her closed lashes were enough to unmake him.  “You’re drunk,” he pointed out as gently as possible, “you’ve been drinking all day.”  As if to prove his point a hiccup escaped her chest.  “Cass- please,” he begged, “look at me.”

She did, slowly; painfully slowly, opening her storm gray eyes to meet his.

“There’s my Princess.”

She snarled at the new nickname.

“Hey, you didn’t like ‘Seeker’.”

“Maybe I should be careful what I ask for.”

“Maybe…” he said, his voice listless.  Despite trying to be a good man, a man who might - after a great deal of penance - be worthy of this woman; he didn’t want this moment to end.  He pulled her close, taking one last liberty before she would move away, hugging her to him.

“Varric?” she asked, pausing a moment before returning the embrace.

“Anytime you want me, Cassandra,” he confessed after the hug ended, “I’m yours.”

A quartet began playing in the garden below something slow and gentle as they shifted away from each other.  She was standing far away, her boots returned to her feet as she looked out into the gardens below.

“The Inquisitor is dancing with the Commander,” she commented wistfully.

“Good for Curly, he’s a good man.” Varric said as he wandered over to the spot next to her.

“He is.”

“Did you two ever…?”

“Cullen?!” she hissed, eyes bulging into saucers, “No! Never!”

“I figured he’d be your type…”  

"He is a decade my junior.  And a friend..."

Varric didn't have anything witty to say to that.  Silence stretched between them, where one it had been easy now it was awkward.  “Cassandra?’ Varric said, getting her attention, “Dance with me?”

She snorted but he held her gaze, for just a moment he dropped the mask and let her see him.  Air exploded from her chest as if she’d been punched.  If she saw… he hoped she saw what she meant to him.

“Yes.” she breathed.

He took her hand and they stumbled through the steps until their feet tangled and they ended up just leaning on each other, his head pillowed on her breasts.  If she minded the intimacy of the position with his height she did not say.  

It didn’t matter that he loathed everything Orlesian, this night was the most beautiful he’d ever seen.

~

He’d given her the book.  Oh, he’d teased her mercilessly because they’d had an audience and without knowing what she felt, hell, what she remembered he wasn’t about to start reciting love poetry in the courtyard; not unless he wanted to become the next headless practice dummy.  But now, he was pacing like a caged animal wondering what she was thinking, wondering if she’d even opened it.

They hadn’t spoken in the week since Halamshiral, she’d been too busy and honestly, he’d made himself scarce.  He’d gotten her drunk and taken advantage and he couldn’t bring himself to be the least bit sorry.  For that, if nothing else, he deserved a good right hook.

Then he remembered there was a place above the gardens that overlooked her practice area without being obvious- maybe she’d be there- maybe…

He left immediately, not bothering to pack away his things. He moved through the halls with all the silence his rogue skills allowed until he was there. His heart was thrumming in his chest, wild and fast as he looked between the crenellations.

She was there.

She was reading.

For a long time Varric forgot to breathe until the burning in his lungs forced him to take great swallows of air. Had anyone asked him he would have had no idea of the time, so lost in just watching her.

Every time she smiled, he smiled and when tears welled in her eyes he had to fight the urge to go down there and kiss them away.

“This is pathetic,” Varric muttered to himself.

“That,” a familiar Tevinter accent purred right behind him, “I would agree with.”

“Maker!” Varric hissed, jumping at the sound. “Sparkler… I should have known…”

Dorian stood less than an arms length away, picking at invisible dirt beneath his nails. “You should just tell her.”

“Yes, because giving her another reason to want me dead is a good idea.” He sighed before adding, “Little early to be visiting Tiny, isn’t it?”

The mage huffed, shifting uncomfortably.

“So the Altus doesn’t like questions about his love life but asking about mine is fair game?”

“I don’t have a love life.”

Varric waved him off, turning back to the woman. “Neither do I.”

Thankfully the mage took the hint and sauntered off. Cassandra, however, was gone.

“Well, shit.”

Varric knew when to beat a hasty retreat - his momma hadn't raised a fool; heading back to his quarters for a bit seemed like just the thing to do. That was until he found the Seeker there, pacing back and forth in the passageway like a caged animal, his book clutched under her arm.

He nearly turned and fled before she saw him. Varric knew with her long legs she’d catch up to him in three steps, so he straightened his tunic and joined her in front of his door nerves wrenching at his stomach.

“That bad?” he asked, going for cocky and casual and failing utterly.

“No, it’s wonderful-“ she began wistfully before whatever thought she had closed off her face. Shaking away his attempt at distraction she demanded, “I would like to speak to you- in private.”

“Sure, Seeker.” He opened the door, letting her sweep past him before shutting it firmly denying himself the urge to lean against its solid weight.  Whatever she’d come here for no doubt it would end badly.

He barely had a moment to register the hands on his shoulders as he was forcibly turned pushing him back against the ancient wood. Her lips, soft and pliant, pressing against his.

His mouth parted on instinct drawing a needy moan from the woman. He kissed her with every drop of passion he’d been suppressing for long months, his fingers grasping for purchase on her armor.  He slanted his mouth against hers as he worked her apart with his lips and tongue and teeth until they were both gasping and clutching onto one another; drinking breaths from each other’s lips.

She was trembling against him when they finally broke apart, foreheads leaning together as they panted for air.

“I am not drunk,” Cassandra announced.

“Thank the Maker,” Varric sighed, “there’s only so much room for chivalry in me.”

“Small packages,” she snorted, grinning madly against his cheek.

“Hey,” he sighed in mock offense, “was that a dwarf joke?”

“Perhaps,” she said, straightening but unable to meet his gaze. Suddenly she was flushed all over, embarrassment colouring her cheeks. “Please tell me i have not misread… that I am not making an utter fool of myself…”

“Cassandra,” he said, taking her by the hand and drawing her into his chambers. He helped her cross the few steps and eased her into the bed, her sitting position making them of one height.

Her heart was racing if the pulsing in her neck was any indication; her face turned toward the window. Her high cheekbones were red with shame and tears gathered along the line of her dark lashes.  Slowly, he moved to cup her face, turning her towards him. He used the rough pad of one thumb to brush away a tear as it began to fall before pressing gentle kisses to her skin.  He reminded himself to breathe as her eyes fluttered open, their grey depths all the more tempestuous for the rain gathered there.

“I thought,” she murmured, her voice forming words out of breath rather than sound, “on the balcony- the way you looked at me-  Am i a fool, Varric?”  Her hands came up to curl over his, her body leaning into his touch.

He shifted, settling himself between her thighs so he could hold her trembling body close,cheek pressed to cheek. “No more than I.”

She leaned back to look at him once more, the smile splitting her face felt like the warm sun on his flesh.  Much like the sun on a cloudy day it was quickly chased away.

“What’s wrong?”

“I am a candidate for the Divine.”

Damn him to the Void but the Maker was cruel.  He couldn’t help how her clutched at her armour, his face buried in the soft flesh of her neck. Seemed as if it was her turn to soothe him. “Maker’s puckered asshole.”

“Do not blaspheme,” she admonished even as she trailed kisses over his face.

They stood like that for a long time before he heaved a deep sigh, freeing the sadness in his chest. “You are not Divine yet,” he declared.

“No, I am not.”

“Then,” he said with his most gallant smile, “I’d like your permission to court you.”

“C-court me?” she stuttered.

“Or should I write to your uncle for the priviledge?”

She punched him on the shoulder, smiling when he gave an exaggerated ‘ow’.  “If I become Divine… that does not leave much time for- for courting.”

“‘Not much time’ she says” Varric muttered, holding her gaze, “when I am with you, time stands still.”

The needy noise she made in the back of her throat nearly unmanned him. “Varric…”

“Shhh,” he soothed, “let me finish. Nothing is gonna happen until Corypheus is dead and that might be tomorrow or in ten years-“

“I hope not.”

“Still, no one knows how much time they’ve got. I could get assassinated by a rival guild any day. What I do know,” he continued louder when he thought she might try to interrupt again, “is that if I don’t do this right I’ll regret it. And I don’t want to regret anything. Not about you.”

She nipped happily at the rough pad of his thumb as he brushed it across her lips. The blush had returned but this time it was bubbling over with joy. She pulled him close, her arms winding around his hips and assaulted him with kisses. Leave it to the Seeker to turn kissing into an attack.  Still it wasn’t long before he slowed her down, plucking at her lips with his own. His tongue slid along the crevasse, plunging into her mouth when she gasped in pleasure.

A frisson of need leapt down his spine as she clutched at his tunic, rocking against him.

“Cassandra,”he growled, dragging desperate kisses across her jaw, her hands tangling in his hair tugging it free of his leather tie.

She moaned into his neck, worrying the flesh there her breath hot against his neck.

Varric felt his control, already threadbare, drawn tight - ready to snap.  Gulping down a deep breath he took a long step back, turning away from Cassandra lest his jump back into her arms.  “Maker, Cassandra,” Varric moaned.  “Void.”

“Varric.”

His eyes snapped to her which was a really, really bad idea because she was sitting on his bed, her mouth swollen from his kisses.  He couldn’t stifle the groan that slipped past his lips.  “Do you have any idea,” Varric breathed, “how beautiful you are?”

She shook her head before her eyes flickered to the bedspread her teeth grabbing hold of her bottom lip and worrying it furiously.  “I should go.” she said after a fashion.

“If you want,” he said, stepping just close enough to pluck her hand out of her lap and hold it to his chest, “or you could stay.  We could-” he looked about for some inspiration, eyes falling to his book forgotten on his desk where she must have set it, “I could read to you.”

Her eyes must have doubled in size but she recovered quickly stammering out, “I-I would like that.”

"Good," he said, brushing his lips against her knuckles, "very good."


	5. Words like a Benediction

Varric watched Cassandra as she slept.  He’d barely read a single chapter to her before he’d heard her soft snores rising from where her head was curled on his chest.  He sent the book aside with his glasses, taking a moment to drink in the sight of the woman in his bed.

Without her armor - both physical and metaphorical - she was glorious, all soft curves and vulnerability.  The lines of austerity melted from her face in her sleep making her look like a different version of herself, one that perhaps smiled more.  He swore to himself he would try to bring laughter to her face everyday, for as long as she’d let him.

“Maker,” he sighed, “I don’t know how I got this lucky.”

She shifted in her sleep, perhaps responding to the sound of his voice.  Rolling over, her face tilted towards him as she rested, one hand slipping up to curl in his chest hair.  He reached out to brush a dark lock that had fallen into her face, letting his thumb trail over the skin there.  Even fully dressed as she was she was magnificent; how he would ever be worthy of her he did not know.

His stomach rumbled, dragging him from his thoughts followed by the Seeker’s own belly echoing it.  He stifled a giggle, not wanting to wake her as he slipped from beneath her and off the bed. Dragging on his boots he was already thinking about what morsels he could pilfer from the kitchen for her, maybe bribe Dorian out of a bottle of wine.  Hand on the door, he paused; if she woke and he wasn’t here chances were good she’d disappear.  His stomach clenched at the thought, now that she was here that this thing between them had shifted he never wanted her to leave.  Course he’d have to give her back to the Inquisition _sometime_ but he figured they were both owed a night.

Grabbing his quill he scratched out a quick note and stabbed it into the door with one of the knives he used to sharpen his quills.  She might even smile at that, considering how she liked stabbing things.

It surprised him how quickly he decided on what to bring back to her.  Memories of her preferences bubbled up in his brain as he found her favorite pastries in the larder, grabbing salted meats and cheeses as well as fruit but passing over the sugared pumpkin remembering she didn’t care for it.  How long had he’d been watching the Seeker, absorbing facts about her like parched earth in a rainstorm?  The depths of his own affections surprised even him, this was so much more than the physical; he was Maker-crazy about the woman.

“You knew that, Tethras,” he growled to himself as he stacked his findings on a tray and plucked the bottle of Elderflower Wine from the counter, cradling it in his arms.  Hadn’t he already proven to himself a half-dozen times that this went beyond simple lust.  It wasn’t like he’d never wanted a woman in all these years but usually it faded with time.  His physical indulgences usually quick tumbles with some woman as he was passing through, pleasurable, meaningless.

He couldn’t ever remember a time when he filled himself up with every bit of person’s self from the smallest desires to the deepest.  Well, that wasn’t exactly true.  He had.  Just once.  That was a storm of nugshit waiting to happen.  Still, he reminded himself, he hadn’t seen her much in fifteen years.  If this thing with Cassandra went somewhere, if he was more than a passing interest to her then he’d end it.  The thought of the Seeker finding out about Bianca - the woman, not the crossbow - twisted in his gut.  He imagined all the vulnerability chased away by that mask she’d let him see beneath and he gasped, pushing the thought away.

He shook his head at himself.  He hadn’t even bedded the woman and he was ready to uproot his entire life to spare her unhappiness.  “Well, shit.” He whispered to himself, girding his emotions before pushing open the door with his shoulder.

She was still there curled up in the center of his bed which was frankly far too massive for a single dwarf but he’d enjoyed the indulgence of the enormous thing, even if it was never filled with bodies writhing in pleasure.  And damn, he really shouldn’t have thought that because now he was imagining one very specific body naked and writhing amongst the silk sheets.

She cracked an eye, revealing that she wasn’t, in fact, still asleep.

“You’re still here,” Varric said.

“I thought to leave,” Cassandra replied, sitting up and stretching, the loose cotton of her tunic drawing tight over the buds of her breasts.  Had she freed them from their band?  Or did she not wear one?  “But,” she waved the parchment in the air.

He dared glance up and saw the knife still stuck in the door.  Grinning he crossed the space, setting the platter on his side table before fishing through his things for two glasses and filling them with the wine.

“What did you bring?” she asked, trying to look nonchalant even as her stomach growled desperately.

He pulled back the lid with a flourish and was graced by another grumble from the Seeker’s belly.  Plucking a grape he held it to her lips.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “I can feed myself, Varric, I am not an invalid.”

“Just take the grape, Seeker.”

She did, teeth scraping along the pad of his thumb.

“Now your turn.” he said, indicating the tray.

She plucked up a cube of cheese nearly bringing it to her own mouth before she paused and offered it to him.  He took it slowly, swiping his tongue along her fingers as he pulled the morsel into his mouth.  She gasped in pleasure, scooting back so he could join her on the bed and they fed each other in silence for long moments.

He picked up the wine and handed her a glass, sipping his own.

“It’s-” she stammered after tasting it, “it’s Elderflower Wine.  How could you- you couldn’t have possibly known-”

He shrugged off her scrutiny, saying, “I know a lot of things.”

She was blushing again, hiding her face behind her fingers as if he wouldn’t see it.  Plucking her wine glass out of her hand he set them both to the side before rolling until he straddled her knees, batting away the hands that would hide her face.

“Cassandra,” Varric soothed, running his thumbs along her flaming cheeks, “look at me.”

Her eyes darted to his and mercifully held his gaze.

“Maker, you must know how beautiful you are… has no one…?”

“I am not a virgin,” she sneered, mistaking his fumbled words.

“Not what I meant,” he said, pressing his lips to her forehead.  “I wish,” he sighed against her skin, “you could see what I see when I look at you.”

Her fingers found their way to his chest, her bare fingers curling in the hair she found there.  “What do you see?” she asked, wide eyed.

Varric held her gaze for a long time, before stammering out, “Shit.  There aren’t any words that could even hint at your beauty.  You’re incredible, fierce.  I can never be worthy of you.”

Her eyes fell, watching her own hand as they played in his curls.  “I am beyond my prime.” she stated simply, the kind of matter-of-fact statement that belied old wounds.

“Who told you that nugshit?” Varric growled, wishing he could find whoever it was and punch them in the gut.  “What is ‘a woman in her prime’ anyways?  From where I’m sitting, you define it.  Anyone who can’t see that in blinder than a lyrium miner in the sunlight.”

“I am not conventionally beautiful, certainly not to dwarven standards.”

“Do I look like the kind of man who gives a rat’s ass about ‘dwarven standards’.”

A smile pull at her lips, opening her face with joy.  She leaned forward, offering her lips up him.  They kissed for what seemed like hours and no time at all until the tolling of the midnight hour drew them back to themselves even as they clutched at each other like teenagers in the first blush of love amongst the tangled blankets of his bed.

“Maker, the hour.” she blasphemed.

He grazed her kiss swollen lips with his knuckles, chuckling.  “I’ve gotten the Seeker to swear.  I’ll be sent to the Void for corrupting you.”

She returned his smile, grinning wider when he dared to press a kiss to the tip of her nose.  “I should find my own chamber.”

“Stay,” he implored, “we will be as chaste as chantry sisters.”

“But will we sleep?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I don’t know about you, Princess, but all this chest hair requires copious amounts of beauty sleep.”

“Ugh,” she groaned, snatching up the pillow and chasing him in a playful attempt to smother him to death.

“So,” he said, breathless as he managed to pin her, the pillow abandoned nearby.  He had no doubt that the woman could toss him on his ass, that she let him sit on her legs made his heart swell.  “Staying?”

“I-I am wearing the wrong clothes for sleep.”  He wondered if the fireplace had not burned so low if the ubiquitous blush would have returned.  “Could I borrow a shirt?  I am certain I could make due with that.”

“Of course,” he said, dropping a kiss to her chin.  Rummaging through his trunk he found a shirt, a dark green silk that was too tight in the shoulders but otherwise well made.  The thought of the Seeker in it brought a devilish smile to his lips.

He handed it to her before turning his back like a gentleman, not that the rustle of fabric didn’t bring wicked thoughts to his mind.  He was, after all, only dwarven.

He slipped out of his sash and shirt, grinning when he caught the stutter of Cassandra’s breath as he bared his back.  So, she was watching him.

He took his time, dressing down to his small clothes before pulling on the loose silk of his night pants, the fabric of the matching shirt cool against his skin.  He waited, adding logs to the fire lest it go out in the night, until he heard the creak of the bed.

“Decent, Princess?”

“I am.”

The sight of the woman in his bed, the silk of the green shirt dark against her copper skin - she was a vision.  Even with the laces at the neck drawn tight it sagged open at the collar leaving a glorious amount of shoulder bare.  He was suddenly questioning whether they would, in fact, sleep tonight.

“You’re staring,” Cassandra said pointedly.

“I wish I could paint.” He confessed, “Words do you no justice.”

“Come to bed, dwarf,” she growled, but there was no bite to it leaving it sounding more like a pur.

“As my lady commands,” he said, bowing low before crossing the room and crawling under the blankets with her.

He laid on his back, holding his arm out to the side.  She took his invitation and curled up on his chest, fingers dancing in the chest hair.

“You know, Seeker, for as much as you mock the chest hair you seem to enjoy touching it an awful lot.”

“It is… nice.”

“‘Nice’? She says.  You wound me.”

“It is turning grey.” she pointed out.

“Oof,” Varric gasped, clutching his chest with his free hand dramatically, “the woman is trying to send me to my grave.  Ancestors aid me!”

Cassandra chuckled, the sound rolling into him wherever they touched.

“You know,” Varric said, eyeing her head of dark hair, “I am only a year older than you.”

“I am not going grey!” she cried, sitting up and rolling her eyes to where the locks fell over her forehead as if she could see that way.

“I don’t know...” he teased, ruffling her hair as he pretended to look her over.

“Dwarf.” she warned, eyes levelling with his.

“Alright, alright,” he held his hands up in surrender, “you aren’t.  But, for the record, when you do you’ll look beautiful, just as you do now.”

She settled, curling back against him.  Varric closed his eyes, listening to the rise and fall of her chest, his fingers stroking the soft skin of her shoulder.  Sleep began to drag him down.

“Varric- I-”

“Sleep, Princess." He mumbled,  "Go to sleep.”


	6. Meu Coração é Seu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title translates as "My Heart is Yours" i hope. In Portuguese, which Cassandra also speaks in this chapter since I couldn't find any reliable information about what country Nevarra was based on and Antiva has always seemed more Spanish to me.

Waking up with Cassandra curled around him was likely one of the most amazing things that had ever happened in his half-cursed life.  Too bad it had been nearly two weeks ago, the Seeker taken into the field with the Inquisitor.  He’d waited a mere two days before sending her his first letter, declaring how utterly drab and unlivable Skyhold was without her.  Personally he thought it a bit much but his feelings were true enough and he sent it before he could think better of it.

The Seeker, it seemed, had not minded penning one hastily in the field and sending it back if her penmanship was any judge.  She fumbled with the words, half the page filled with scratches where she’d changed her mind.  It was more precious to him than jewels.

He passed the time playing cards with the Chargers, Bull’s people always good for a night of distraction.  Skinner, that one was tricky.  Just when he thought he’d found her tells they disappeared, as if by discovery they no longer existed.  It was almost enough to make him cheat.  But then again his liked his head on his shoulders.

“Varric,” Leliana said at his elbow making him jump.

“Maker!  Lady Nightingale just because you are a spy does not mean you need to sneak up on people.”

“I wasn’t,” she grinned, her Orlesian accent making the words sound a little off, “you were just so lost in thought I could not get your attention.”

“Oh,” he cleared his voice, shuffling papers to make room for her, “sorry about that.”

“No worries,” she chuckled, “Cassandra is a striking woman.  I’ve found myself lost in thought about her on many occasion.”

Varric arched an eyebrow at the spymaster, feeling his cheeks blush at the image- He pushed it away before he was hard and aching.  It was too early in the day for erotic lesbian boners.

“Sadly,” Leliana continued, “her preference lies with men.  Such a disappointment.  Still, I am happy for her.  I don’t suppose I need say that if you break her heart I will have yours for breakfast?”  She was still smiling, making ice run in his veins.

Varric cleared his throat, the threat landing truer than any assassination attempt had before.  “I will keep that in mind.”

“See that you do.”  She plucked a folded letter out of her sleeve, handing it to Varric.  “She has sent you letter and asked that I not read it.  While I am curious, I will not betray her trust.”

“Thank you.” he croaked.

The spymaster sauntered away, likely off to skin some unsuspecting bastard.  He looked at the letter, thicker than the quick notes she’d sent in reply.  He packed up his things quickly and took her letter into the privacy of his own room.

_ Varric, _

_ The Emerald Graves are beautiful.  I loathe them because you are not here.  There.  I have said it.  I have written this letter a dozen times and sent others in its stead because… because I am a coward.  I have feelings for you.  This, I imagine is obvious and you are rolling your eyes at me but it is true.  _

_ I feel foolish.  I am a woman of some years and yet I feel like a girl when you look at me.  The things you say to me…  I pray if you are not serious if your feelings are not as mine are, then end it.  I will not hate you for it. _

_ But if you do, if you have-  I cannot wait for my return to Skyhold. _

_ -Cassandra _

Varric’s chest hurt as he read the letter over for the fifth time.  Cassandra, his stony Seeker, cared for him.  He wanted to sing, to dance, but mostly he just wanted her.  He wanted to kiss her until he was drunk with it.  So he did the only thing he could think of, he made for the Emerald Graves.

He rode out with his pony saddled with enough provisions to make the week long journey.  

Truthfully everything about trekking through the mountains reminded him of all the reasons he loved being a surfacer: camping in caves, rockslides, mud and dirt and stones.  But as the foothills gave way to the plains and in turn the area known as the Emerald Graves he found himself unaccountably happy.  Stupidly so.

He was whistling as he rode into camp at midday, startling the scouts.

“Master Tethras,” Harding called out to him, grabbing the reins of his pony, “we weren’t expecting you.”

“Oh?” he teased, “You weren’t?  Isn’t this the Free Marches?  I could have sworn this was the road to Kirkwall.”

“No sir,” she smiled, getting his joke. 

“Where is the Inquisitor camping tonight?”

“Out at the Direstone Camp, sir.  I think Bull talked her into fighting the dragon nesting nearby.”  She pulled out the map curled at her hip and showed him the way, sending him off with a befuddled salute and two soldiers to take him there.

The place was crawling with Red Templars and they gave a wide berth to the giants they saw lumbering in the distance making the camp by the dinner hour.  The Inquisitor’s party had yet to return though the officer of the camp, equally as confused as Harding, informed him that they would be returning shortly.  He kept busy, hunting and dressing two halla for their dinner.

It was well after dark when he heard Evelyn’s voice from the darkness cry, “Varric?”

Followed by the Seeker’s sputtering as she stepped into the firelight, “What are you doing here?”

“It hurt to be away,” Cole said, appearing at her side, “like a sickness that’s only better when you’re near.  Skin soft beneath the armor.  He wants to peel it away but he likes it too.  Cassandra, what’s a ‘hickey’?”

“Cole,” Bull said, clapping the boy on the shoulder while grinning madly, “leave the lovebirds alone, alright?”

“But, they aren’t birds… are they, Bull?  Like you’re part dragon but you named you The Iron Bull?”

“Not the same, kid.”

The Inquisitor gave him a sly half smile before retreating to the other campfire as well.

Suddenly nervous, Varric couldn’t bring himself to look at her.  “Cassandra I-”  His words were cut off by the Seeker pouncing on him, knocking him on his ass backward over the log he’d been sitting on.  Her lips were hot and greedy against his as his fingers dug into the thick leather of her breeches, riding the storm of her passions as she pinned him beneath her.

“Varric,” she gasped against his lips before demanding more, sliding her tongue into his mouth and wringing groans from his chest.

He nipped at her lip, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it to slide his tongue along hers.  They tangled until his lungs burned and they pulled apart, panting as their foreheads rested together.

“I missed you,” Cassandra said, breathing in the scent of his hair as she pulled it loose from its tie.

“Princess,” he said, softly, his fingers caressing over her cheekbones, “I couldn’t stay away.”

She shifted her weight earning her a groan from him that wasn’t in pleasure.  “Are you hurt?” she asked, suddenly worried.  “You should not have come, much of the area is filled with Templars!  You could have been killed!”

“Seeker! Seeker!” Varric cried, getting her attention.  “I got here just fine.  I just think I might have landed on a root…”

“Oh…” she said, rolling off him and helping him to his feet.  

“There,” he said as he rolled his shoulders and stretched his back, “no harm done.”

She stepped close, resting her forearms on his shoulders her face painted with firelight.  “I want to be alone with you,” she breathed, frustrated.

“Good thing I brought my own tent.” he said, gesturing to the newest one in the line.

Catching his hand she practically dragged him inside, ducking under the flap with an easy grace.  He flopped back on his bedroll, giving her room to move arround the interior even as his eyes followed her body hungrily.

“So,” he said, trying to break through the sexual tension that seemed to flow between them as he lit the lantern and hung it from the ring at the apex of the tent, “how are the Graves?”

“Ugh,” she groaned as she loosened the straps on her armor.  “As I said, infested with Red Templars.  It makes me sad to see what has become of the Order.  Still, in some ways they chose this.”  She huffed a frustrated sigh as she dropped her chest plate to the ground.  “It is beautiful here, but sad.  Tomorrow we make for the ruins to the north to clear out some of the giants there.  If all goes well Evelyn has mentioned fighting the dragon.  Bull is beside himself with pleasure.”

She stripped down to the thin cotton of her shirt and her trousers.  Bare footed she joined him atop the covers.

“Will you stay?” she asked, eyes serious in the flickering light.

He rolled to face her, his body bracketing around her as he leaned on one elbow; his hand resting tentatively at her waist.  Despite her greeting he was suddenly unsure of himself.  Traveling halfway across Orlais to see this woman seemed ridiculously romantic and possibly unwelcome.  “Do you want me to stay?”

“Yes,” she breathed, tilting her head up to his.

He lowered himself to her, lips brushing across the flushed skin of her chin, her cheeks, before finally capturing her mouth.  He plied her gently, working needy moans from her as his thumbs rubbed soothing circles into the soft flare of her waist.

“Varric,” she whispered, clinging to his shoulders, “may I?” Cassandra tugged meaningfully at the hem of his tunic.

He leaned up, undoing his sash and pulling the silk over his head, abandoning it in the corner.  She hissed with pleasure, pressing her face into the muscles of his back as her fingers trailing over the tattoo on his right shoulder.

“What’s this?” she asked, dragging her lips over the faded ink.

“It’s my mother’s name.” He grunted, softly.  “It’s written in the old tongue.  I got it the day we returned her to the Stone.”

“Oh,” Cassandra breathed, the heat from her mouth ghosting a trail of gentle kisses as if she could ease away the old pain.

“Bartrand thought it was foolish… that I had ‘deformed’ myself in her memory.”

“I think it is very sweet.  You do not often speak of your mother.”

Varric shrugged.  “It was a long time ago.  I was pretty young when she passed.”

Cassandra held him from behind, quiet for many minutes before she said, “You have more muscles than I would have thought.”

“Enjoying the view, Princess?” he chuckled.

“Very much.”

He turned then, leaning back around her as before.  It wasn’t often he got to look down on Cassandra but he liked it, her head pillowed in the join of his arm.  Course that meant his feet ended somewhere around her thighs but he didn't really mind.  Her fingers found their way to his chest, playing in the ruddy hair there.  She ran her hands over the planes of his shoulders, back and stomach fingering his scars as he cradled her.

Her gentle explorations caressing over his skin built the need in his belly to a roaring fire until his cock was straining at his breeches and pressing insistently into her hip.  Her fingers dipped lower, tracing the edge between skin and leather before palming him through his laces.

He groaned, burying his face in her neck as she trailed her nails over his engorged flesh.

“Cassandra,” he moaned into her flesh, not sure if he wanted her to stop or continue.

“I want you,” she breathed, hesitant even as she confessed it.

“And I want you. Maker.” He trembled against her even after she moved her hand to his hip.  “But,” he growled, “and I am hating myself for saying this - you deserve better than this.  Andraste!  You probably deserve better than I could ever give you but I want this,” he gestured lamely between them, “to be something better than a romp in a tent.”

“Varric,” he soothed, pressing trails of kisses wherever she could reach, “I am not so fragile.”

“I know,” he caught her hand as it went to slide back over his breeches and brought it to his mouth, pressing kisses into the knuckles.  “Believe me, I know.  You could kick my ass any day of the week.”  He looked her in the eyes then, staring into their depths.  “I want it to be special.”  He felt the burn across his cheeks as he flopped back on the bedroll, staring into the ceiling.  “Now that I’ve made a complete fool of myself…”

“You have not,” she said, perching her hand on his chest, her chin resting atop.

Varric couldn’t help the swelling in his heart at the fond look in her eyes, a wistful smile tugging at her lips until it suddenly turned into a frown.  She rolled away, sitting up and putting her back to him.

“Hey… what’s wrong?”

She shook her head, a frustrated noise growling low in her throat.  “I am…. needful.”

“Princess,” he sighed, sliding across to wrap himself around her back, “let me take care of you.”

“It is nothing, it will pass.”

“Or,” he said brightly pressing kisses through the cotton of her shirt to her tense shoulder blades, “I could ease the ache.”

A whimper broke loose from her throat as he hands grazed across her belly.  “Shall I take that as a yes?”

“Yes,” she sighed, leaning into his touch until her head was nestled on his shoulder, the long line of her body laid out before him.

Varric eased her shirt off over her head revealing the creamy expanse of her torso.  He trembled as he slipped his calloused hands over her flesh, thumbs tracing the edges of her breast band before brushing across the planes of her stomach.

Cassandra arched into his touch, half formed moans catching in her throat as she slung an arm around his neck, urging his mouth to hers.  He held her, cupping her jaw as their tongues danced.  Varric worshipped her without words, fingers carding through her hair, nails scoring gently down the line of her neck and her bared shoulder.

A primal desire to roll her beneath him curled in his belly but he pushed it away.  His Seeker, his Princess deserved more than a rough fuck.  Even as she tried to reciprocate he gently eased her hands away, begging, “Let me take care of you.”

She mewled as he kissed her hands, wrists wrapped in his blunt fingers.  He leaned forward, catching the sound as he slowly steered her down to the blankets.  Varric trailed kisses over all the tender skin revealed to him, fingers working the the knot of her bindings.   The band gave way and he peeled it off her like the delicate wrapping of a gift.

“Andraste’s mercy,” he cried, breathless.  His whole body was shaking with his arousal that the sight of her bared before him nearly brought him over the edge like an unseasoned boy.  He ground the heel of his hand against his cock, the pain bringing him down from the brink of release.  “You’re so beautiful.” he whispered.  The kisses he pressed to her breasts were benedictions, soft and worshipful as he cupped the heavy globes, lifting them to his mouth to lick across the nipple and the sensitive underside.

“Varric,” she sighed his name as he clung to his shoulders, fingers buried in his hair.

He branded her with his fiery kisses, nipping and sucking and tasting until finally, finally he reached the top of her leathers.  Despite the need to take her in his mouth pounding through him he waited there, looking up at her for her permission.  He had never been a man to demand from a woman more than she was willing and he would not begin with this Spirit of Mercy granted to him by the Maker.

“Please,” she whimpered, guiding his head meaningfully to the juncture of her legs.

That was all he needed as his hands plucked apart her laces, loosening the garment enough that he could pull it free of her.

Her small clothes were simple, functional and so utterly soaked that it clung to the dark lips of her sex.  He buried his face in the smell of her, filling his lungs with it as his mouth sealed over the cloth.  Her cry of pleasure was everything as she arched into him, her hips grinding down onto his face.

“Cassandra,” he prayed as his fingers curled over the material and slid it down and away.  It was like seeing the face of the Maker.  He realized, distantly, that the keen of desire he heard was coming from himself and he immediately cut off the noise.

The moment felt too large, too immense for simple passion.  He wished there was something, some words that could make her understand what she meant to him.

He decided to use his tongue for a different purpose as he laid between her thighs.  She opened for him beautifully and he knew there would be no more teasing as he took in the first full taste of her, the tang of her arousal flooding across his tongue.  Whatever skill he had he employed for her; listening to the gasps of her body, watching the needy rocking of her hips.

He sucked gently at the nub of her sex as he slipped a finger within her earning him a fresh tide of wetness and a throaty cry.  He filled her, first with one digit and then another wishing it was his cock buried within her.  She rocked desperately, inelegantly as her passion outstripped her skill.  Even so it was glorious as her hips sped, driving them inexorably toward her release.

He rode the buck of her hips with his mouth, stroking her steadily within until he felt the crush of her pelvic muscles.  Maker, she was tight as she bore down on him; crying out as her release took her.  He eased her through it, gentling his mouth and stilling his hand until her muscles went lax.

Without warning Cassandra yanked him up bodily and rolled him beneath her, straddling his thighs as she kissed him.  She was demanding, claiming and he gave it to her.  Whatever she wanted was hers, he would happily give all of himself to see this smile again; for she was smiling, happiness bursting across her face.

He gasped, surprised, as she freed his cock.

“Cassandra,” he groaned, intent on stopping her.  This wasn’t supposed to be about his needs.

“Varric,” she rejoined, daring him to stop her as her hand circled his aching prick.

He couldn’t help how his hips stuttered up into her grasp even as it earned him a saucy grin.  He watched, breathless as she coated her fingers in her own wetness before returning to his shaft, blunt and reddened with need.  She stroked him firmly along his shaft her hand gliding easily as she covered him in her arousal.

He wrapped his hand around hers, showing her how to ease back his foreskin and touch him.  His eyes fell shut as he whispered her name like an invocation and thus was utterly unprepared when the warmth of her mouth wrapped around the blunt head.

“Maker!” he cried out, so close already that he felt his balls tighten.  “Cassandra-” he tried to warn her but her name merely made her add suction to the heat of her mouth and he was lost, his back bowing as he came hard into her.

She gave a little grunt of surprise before swallowing his seed, licking and sucking until he was hissing for her to stop because it was too much.

“Mercy,” he begged, pulling her to him.  She went, grinning madly as her head found his shoulder.

He had enough sense remaining to get them both under the covers, warmth huddling together.  “You alright?” he asked, after they both had caught their breath.

She nodded, tucking her face up under his chin. “Te adoro.” she whispered, so soft he barely heard it.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling breaking across his face, “me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Te adoro" means "I adore you" in Portuguese.


	7. Demon in Dawnstone

“Keep up, dwarf,” Cassandra called back to him, spinning and shooting him a wild grin as he trailed behind.

He picked up the pace, coming astride her even as a root snagged his ankle sending him sprawling on his face.  He wasn’t sure whether to smile or be indignant when Cassandra burst into laughter.

“Alright, Varric?” she said, barely even  _ trying _ to suppress the sounds bubbling out of her chest.

“That’s the seventh root I’ve tripped on,” he grumbled, brushing himself off.  “I swear they’re doing it on purpose.”  

Mercifully, Cassandra shortened her strides, letting Varric walk alongside of her.

He sighed, “Is even terrain too much to ask for?”

“Is there a problem?” she smirked her hip bumping his shoulder pleasantly.

“ _ You _ might be used to traipsing through the countryside - punching dragons, interrogating people or whatever it is you did before this.” He grumbled, “ _ I’m _ from the city.”

She paused, laughing against him and he couldn’t help the grin it tugged from him.  “Punching dragons?’ she managed after she caught her breath.

He was about to say something terribly clever when they felt the ground shake beneath their feet.

“Giants!” Bull roared ahead of him.  The Seeker was already drawing her blade.

“Be careful!” he shouted to her as she drew her weapon, rushing forward.

Bianca was out in an instant, loaded for bear as he moved to get a better line of sight.  Evelyn was already shocking the monster, staff twirling in a way that screamed power.  Bull and Cassandra dove under the beasts legs making his heart jump into his throat, Cole appearing with them a moment later.

“Get it together,” he grumbled to himself, trying to summon an image of Cassandra’s steely gaze were she to see the way he worried, letting fear rule him.

He shouldn’t have panicked.  Cassandra was fine, if a little winded, when the monstrosity came crashing to the ground.

They barely had time to cut it open for loot before the ground started rumbling again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Varric groaned over Bull’s whoops of pleasure.

It was too late in the day to go after the dragon by the time they’d dealt with the dozen or so giants, much to Bull’s dismay they headed back to camp.

“Varric?” Cassandra said, stopping outside of the ring of firelight, “Will you join me by the river?”

“Yeah,” he croaked, the images of her bathing at the Oasis Waterfall rising up in his mind.  He’d pleasured himself to that more than once.

They made their way to the shallow river, the moonlight sparkling across the water as she sat down on a large boulder at the river’s edge.

“I should have been a rogue,” she grumbled as she scrubbed the blood and gore off her breastplate, setting it aside before working loose her greaves, vambraces and washing them as well.

“Cole got his fair share.”

She sniggered at that.  “I am a terrible shot with a bow.  No doubt if it were up to my hunting skills we would be eating roots every night.” 

“Well, that’s why you’ve got me, Princess.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, something strange and vulnerable in the quirk of her lips before she turned back to the water, hiding her face.

He came up behind her, making sure he made noise so as not to startle her and set Bianca aside.  Tucking his gloves in his belt he opened the laces at the neck of her tunic, the material sagging open.

She groaned at the first brush of his thumbs over her shoulders, relaxing into his touch as he kneaded her muscles.

“Something on your mind, Cass?” he whispered against the skin of her neck before dropping a kiss onto the sun-warmed flesh before moving on to one of her shoulders.

“Silliness,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“You can tell me, Seeker.”

She was silent for a long time - considering - as his hands worked the tension from her body.  She was practically draped over him when she next spoke, “Perhaps later.  This thing between us is too fragile, too new.”

“Alright.” he grinned, kissing down her neck as he held her.  “I believe ‘this thing’ we have is a romance.”

They held each other like that for a long time.  Listening to the water.  Watching the moon rise.

“I should bathe,” she sighed, “and we should return before Bull eats all the dinner.”

“Allow me?” Varric asked, hopeful, against the shell of her ear.

“You wish to bathe me?” she hissed, her voice echoing oddly off the water.

“Is that such a surprise?”

The needy sound she made in the back of her throat was delicious and  _ Maker _ he was hard, straining against his laces.  Suddenly it seemed like one temptation too far.

“Alright.” Cassandra whispered, barely heard.

One the other hand, what a way to go.  His ancestors were probably laughing at him from the Void.

He got a cloth from their packs and some soap he used occasionally; it smelled smoky and expensive but the idea of his scent on her body all day was rapture.

Varric started at her feet, pulling off her boots and cleaning the soft skin there.  He was gentle when she pulled away - ticklish - as he worked the cloth and then massaged the muscles there too.

He peeled off her leggings, Cassandra holding herself up on her hands for him to do it.  He worked up one long silky appendage and then the other, trailing kisses and sucking a love bite to the sensitive skin inside her her thigh.   Her hips were rocking in unconscious need by the time he tugged her tunic off over her head.  

He moved around to her back, running the cloth over her neck and shoulders before refreshing it and cleaning each long arm.  She whimpered as the cool material slid over the flare of her hips, laying back into his embrace.

“Please,” she hissed, tugging the cloth free before guiding his hand to her mound.

He groaned in pleasure to find her soaked.  “Wanton,” he growled, teeth nipping at her neck.

“Only because you make me so.” she sighed.

He lifted her, hitching her up further on the rock so he could get better leverage.  She let out a breathless squeal of delight before he plunged two fingers into her heat, the squeal turning into a cry of passion.

“Careful, Princess,” he said as he began to stroke her.  “We aren’t that far from camp.”

She bit her lip, then, thinking better of it shoved her crooked forefinger and bit down as another strangled cry escaped.

“You are,” he worshipped breathless against her neck as his fingers set a rhythm, thumb brushing over the nub of her clit, “without a doubt the most incredible creature...  I have ever seen.”  He sighed against the tightness of emotion in his chest as she writhed in his arms, her fingers covering the hand within her, keeping the him there for her pleasure.

“Cassandra,” he whispered fondly against her shoulder.

“Cassandra,” he kissed into her hair.

“Varric, I-”

“Come for me.”  And she did, shattering apart in his arms as she bucked against his hand.

She came to herself slowly, languidly as he guided his hand out of her gently, her hips rocking up at the loss.

“Varric,” she sighed, a soft smile tugging at her lips.  One of her hands worked its way between their bodies, ghosting over the erection raging in his leathers.

He hissed at the sudden contact, “Andraste’s tits!”

“Do not blaspheme,” she admonished, even as pulled him down into a kiss.  It was awkward as she twisted over her shoulder for it but anytime her lips touched his was a Maker-granted miracle.

“If you do that every time I take Andraste’s name in vain then I’m gonna be doing a lot more swearing.”

She chuckled, shaking her head before turning on the rock to reach for him.

“We should be getting back,” he said, pulling her hands away from the laces.

Cassandra actually pouted at that, her bottom lip jutting out.  Varric had never seen Cassandra pout and now she was, over his  _ cock _ .  Damn, that was hot.

“Don’t you want…?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he croaked, arousal rough in his throat, “but… you know what?  Nevermind.  Dinner can wait.”

She giggled.   _ Maker _ was this another universe where the Seeker,  _ his Seeker _ , giggled?

“Lay down,” she said, smacking his ass as he jogged up the hill after scooping up Bianca and laid back, crossbow set aside nearby.  He heard her join him a moment later, dropping her armor into a clanging pile.

He didn’t look at her, instead focusing on the stars.

“Well, Princess,” he said, “I’m all yours.”

“Good,” she said, coming to straddle his hips, his body jerking up into her with a mind of its own.  She smiled down at him, as radiant as the stars above her before leaning over him and capturing his lips in a searing kiss.  She had gotten better, he mused as her tongue worked him open, licking into his mouth in a way that reminded him of cats.  Of course, if Cassandra was a cat she’d be one of those predatory jungle cats they had in the North.

Her mouth wandered, sucking and nipping over his jaw as she freed his hair and buried her long fingers in it.  She was like a hurricane of passion against his skin, biting marks into his flesh as he groaned against her, hands cleaving to her hips.

“I want you inside me,” she growled against his ear, tugging at the flesh with her teeth.

No.  No.  Cassandra was not going to talk dirty to him that was just…  _ Maker _ … it was wrong.  And so very, very right.

“I want to feel your seed within me.”

Varric whined, the noise breaking loose from his chest as she kissed over the exposed chest hair, dragging her nails and leaving trails of white claw marks against his skin.  Everyone was going to see  _ that _ .

The idea, the thought that everyone was going to know that he was hers - and she, his - had his cock weeping as she freed it.  Varric gasped as the heated flesh hit the cool evening air.

She was blushing as she slid down his body, her words bringing colour to her beautiful cheekbones.  He only had a moment to realize she was going to taste him before her tongue licked the underside of his cock.

She grinned up at him like a vixen before capturing the head in her mouth and sucking fiercely.  It took all his strength to keep his hips still, to not buck into the glorious heat of her.  She worked him slowly, exploring what he liked before finally setting a pace with her hand and mouth working together.

“Cass,” he growled, fingers cupping back of her neck, “I’m close.”

She hummed happily, working faster until he spilled himself into her.  She drank every drop, swallowing it down before smiling up at him; his cock falling from her mouth.

“You are,” he whispered, pulling her close, “without a doubt… a desire demon.”

She laughed, wrapping herself around him after tucking him away.  “You are a silly man.”

It was a while before they made their way back to camp, giggling and kissing, drifting constantly back into each other’s arms.

“There’s the lovebirds!” Bull shouted as they walked into the circle of light.

“Hey Tiny,” Varric groaned, “could you be a little louder?  I don’t think they heard you in Kirkwall.”

Bull chuckled, handing them each a bowl of nug stew.  

“Damn, I’m jealous.” the qunari said giving one of his strange one-eyes winks.

“Well,” Varric preened, “didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

“I was about to send out a search party,” the Inquisitor teased, nudging Cassandra with her elbow.

“That would have been…”  the Seeker cleared her throat, “unfortunate.”

Bull burst out into laughter again, hearty enough to put smiles on all their faces.

“Good for you two.  Good for you two.”


	8. Hearts on Fire

Returning to Skyhold was took longer than expected, winter storms bogged the mountain passes with thick drifts of snow and when they finally arrived they found most were indoors, hiding from the bitter cold.

Still they’d come with loot stuffing their saddlebags thanks to the dragon they’d felled and Bull was in particular good cheer when he found Varric in the tavern, taking the seat across from him.

“Tiny,” Varric said, regarding the hulking edifice he called a friend over the rim of his tankard.

It had been late when they’d arrived and getting even later now, yet the prospect of spending a night alone in his bed had him here rather than between its silk sheets.

“What?” Varric asked when the qunari was unusually quiet.

“Is she a kitten or a tiger in the sack?’

Varric nearly choked on the mouthful of ale.  Although, really, he should have seen that coming.  “Nope.”  He coughed, clearing his airway.  “Not answering that, not for all the gold in Thedas.”

“I bet she’s both,” Bull said, eye roving over him, looking for a tell.

Well damn, that was a bit close to the mark.

“That’s what I thought!” he roared as if he’d seen the answer on Varric’s face.  Which he hadn’t because Varric had an excellent poker face.  “Damn,” the qunari said, settling in his chair, “you’re a lucky man.”

Varric didn’t know what to say to that so he raised his tankard in an awkward half salute, finishing it.  “I think Sparkler is looking for you.” Varric said with a nod to the mage who’d just swept in despite the raging blizzard outside.

A grin split his face before he excused himself, sweeping the altus up in a kiss that left him giggling wildly before dragging Bull upstairs.

“Good for you, Bull.” Varric murmured, paying his tab. “Good for you.”

Varric simultaneously cursed the foul southern weather and thanked the ingenuity of mages.  Everywhere fire runes glowed along the battlements keeping them dry and free of the piles of snow that he’d waded through to make it to the Keep.  Steam curled up into the night air in long plumes, fingers reaching up toward the sky.

He’d thought about dragging Cassandra from the smithy so they could find warmth together in his bed but a quick glance at the windows told him she was already asleep, not even a candle flickering within.  He pulled open his door from memory, eyes squeezed shut against a sudden blast of cold as he darted indoors.  Stomping his now soaked legs to get the clumps of slush off it took a moment for him to realize his bedroom was warm and firelight flickered against the door he’d turned to lock.

“Cassandra?” he whispered, fingers pressed to the aging wood.

“You look cold,” the Seeker replied.  He sagged with happiness, a grin splitting his face as he turned to her.

She was curled in a chair near the fireplace, a book perched in her hand and wearing one of his shirts.  The neckline was large enough to bare her shoulder and her long legs were folded underneath her, utterly bare.

His throat suddenly felt very dry.  

He somehow found the courage to cross to her, this beautiful woman who looked at him with such tenderness.  When Varric went to reach out, to cup her face he realized his hands must be terribly cold and he froze with them dangling in mid-air.

A soft smile broke over Cassandra’s lips as she gathered them and pulled them to her rosy cheeks.  Her eyes were dark round saucers in the flickering firelight, soft and needy.  He stepped nearer, just an inch really but enough to put him close enough he could feel her breaths panting against his mouth.

She leaned up, erasing the last space in a gentle brush of lips and a sigh of contentment.

“This isn’t real,” he breathed against her cheek as his hands slid to the back of her head and worked gently into the skin there.

She snorted, a giggle broken off in her throat.  “Do you usually have dreams where you are dripping a puddle onto the carpet.  Or rather…” she paused before adding, “Dwarves don’t dream!”

He chuckled at that, mouth trailing down that delightfully bare shoulder before he went back and suckled at the spot under her ear.   _ Maker _ , she smelled good.  “With all the strange unheard of magic floating around, who knows?  We could be in the Fade together right now.”

He shivered and she pushed him back firmly.  “Get undressed, Varric.  Before you become unwell.”

“Are you just trying to get me naked, Seeker?’ he teased, nipping at the lip she was worrying between her teeth.

“As if I have to  _ try _ .” she said, giving him a saucy smile before working her hands over his chest and around his shoulders to push the sodden duster off and onto the floor.  He toed off his boots, kicking them towards the fireplace to dry as she loosened his sash and then pulled his tunic over his head.  They joined the rest of his clothes as her mouth trailed over his chest, nipping and tasting before her lips sealed against the pebble of his nipple.

He tried to work loose the ties of his pants, Maker knows he did; but his hands were shaking and when she sucked on the hard bud of his nipple he couldn’t help but bury them in her hair.  As she released him he scooped her up, her legs wrapping around his waist and he carried her to the bed.

“ _ Maker’s tears!” _ Cassandra cried, “You're strong.”

Varric chuckled, dropping her onto the sheets.  He took a moment to enjoy the sight of her in his bed.  He didn’t think he’d ever tire of it.  

“Well, Seeker,” he chuckled, “the muscles aren’t just to impress the ladies.”

Did he imagine it or was there a glimmer of jealousy before she sat up and plucked at the laces of his leathers?

“The only lady you should concern yourself with impressing is me.”

Yep, definitely jealous.  He gasped as she pushed his leggings down roughly, leaving them pooling at his ankles while her mouth attacked his neck, his lips, teeth scraping along his jaw as she claimed him.

Varric wondered at the wisdom of upsetting the woman with a large collection of knives… still he couldn’t complain about the results as she pulled the shirt off over her head.

She wasn’t wearing any smalls… or anything underneath.  Varric’s mind suddenly stuttered to a stop as he drank in the woman in front of him.  Naked.  With him.

He followed when she tugged him up beside her, kicking off his leathers as she rolled him beneath her body, half draping her warm naked flesh over his before nuzzling into his neck.

“You’re cold,” she whispered at the shell of his ear, nibbling the soft flesh.

“Really?” he asked as his hands ran over her soft skin, resting on the gentle flare of her side.  “I feel like I’m on fire.”

She swung her leg over his hips, the furnace of her sex slick against his stomach as her cock nudged at the delicious curve of her ass.

“We are in a bed,” she pointed out helpfully as she rocked against him.

“That we are,” he breathed.

He was trembling, his hands quivering as he reached for her.  He curved the rough edges of his fingers over the swell of her hips, drinking in the sigh she released.  

“Seeker,” he croaked, throat dry as he looked up at her.  

The firelight danced golden over the arch of her back, highlighting her curves as the moonlight caressed the front of her, making her creamy skin paler, more alabaster with its touch. 

“Cassandra,” he breathed as she leaning over him, ghosting her lips against his forehead.  “How can I ever be worthy of you?”

“You think too little of yourself, dwarf,” she murmured against his jaw.

She yelped when he rolled her beneath him, giggling as his mouth found the tight pucker of a nipple, fingers caressing down her sides before he shifted using a hip and a hand to push her legs apart.  When his fingers teased along the silk of her thighs she growled with need, teeth finding the rounded edge of his shoulder.  

He laughed, despite the flare of pain, remembering Bull’s description of her.

“Varric,” she hissed, rocking her hips as his hand skittered over her sex before brushing over the curve of her stomach.

“Yes, Princess?”

“You unmake me.”  The tremble in her voice drew his eyes from his ministrations to her face.  There, bathed in moonlight, Cassandra’s eyes met his and she was… bare.  Her soul, her desire… all the masks fallen away as she gazed at him.  

His breath caught in his throat.

“Make love to me,” she bade.

How was a man to say ‘no’ to that?

He flattened his hand over the swell of her sex, massaging the damp folds before parting her and slipping a finger into her tight heat.  She gasped at the sudden sensation, bucking her hips in short little thrusts.  He worked her open slowly, watching her face for discomfort as he dropped gentle kisses across her abdomen, swirling his tongue over her breasts.

She clutched at his shoulders, fingers buried in his hair as he caressed her until her fingers dug into his flesh and she was crying out, coming undone beneath him. 

Her hand atop his stilled him.

She was languid for only a few moments as he buried his face in the softness of her breasts before her thighs were nudging his hips, greedy and demanding.

“Please,” she begged against his lips before they tangled together, tongues flitting across the gap.

“I’m yours,” Varric sighed, sitting up on his knees and draping her incredible legs over his shoulders, kissing the insides of her knees.  He grasped her hips, pulling her down the sheets toward him before lining himself up and sinking into her slowly.

Her channel gripped him in delicious heat as he buried himself, a chorus of their moans filling the bedroom.  He found her eyes in the darkness and watched as he rolled his hips into her, as pleasure washed across her face.

“Touch yourself,” he encouraged, smiling when she buried her fingers between her legs.

He rocked their bodies together in long strokes, sitting back on his heels to give himself extra leverage.  She cried out, writhing as he pierced her, as his cock-head brushed the sensitive spot within.

“Please,” she cried, eyes wide and pleading as her hand splayed across his chest, “don’t stop.”

He needed no encouragement, but seeing her coming apart with pleasure made electricity shoot down his spine.

Heat pooled in his belly, demanding and urgent as his release built inside him.  His fingers circled her thighs, pushing them back, opening her for him even more as he plunged in deeper.  Her heat burned him, setting him alight as her heels dug.  She gripped him tighter, closer... demanding with her body everything he was.

Her hand worked over the bud of her sex, gentle but furious as his pace started to stutter.

“Come for me,” he begged as he thrust into her.

“Yes,” she sighed.

Her eyes widened in surprise before slamming shut as she arched against him.  He kept his pace, greedy to find his own release.  It came like a tidal wave, either because of deprivation or the build up between him; he was erupting inside her before he had a chance to withdraw.

“Shit,” he groaned, collapsing onto her chest.  The world twisted and spun in the wake of his orgasm.  When he recovered he was on his back, Cassandra’s leg hooked across his stomach.  “I’m sorry.” he said into her hair, pressing his lips against her sweat dampened skin.

“What for?” she asked, sitting up to look him in the eye.

“For…” he gestured helplessly between their bodies.

“Oh!” she gasped, eyes going wide before a smile split her face.  She was blushing when she answered.  “I doubt I can even have a child at my age, let alone with a dwarf given the rarity of such things.”

“Still, I should have asked.”

“You’re a gentleman.  I would have said yes.”

He chuckled, swatting her backside before rolling out of the bed to find a washcloth.  Wetting it he cleaned himself before rinsing it and bringing it back to her.  She let him clean his seed from her thighs but stilled his hand when he went to press it to her sex. 

“Not too much,” she blushed, not meeting his eyes, “I like the feel of you within me.”

His cock twitched against his thigh.  “Princess, if I were ten years younger a statement like that would having me making a mess of you all over again.”

She laughed, joyful as he finished.

She curled over him when he came back to bed, covering them both in the heavy blanket.

“You know,” he said as they began to drift off, “you could stay.  Move in…”

“Mmm,” she moaned against his chest, too far in sleep to hear him.

He kissed her head and closed his eyes.

The dawn broke and with it the storms but he hardly noticed as Cassandra rode him until she came, hips stuttering as he found his own release inside her.  Afterward she curled in her bed, their stomachs grumbling in tandem.

“Stay here,” he whispered against her cheek, dressing and darting out towards the kitchens.

As he crossed the Great Hall he heard, “Varric!”

His heart faltered in his chest.  It couldn’t be.

He turned to find himself with an armful of dwarf.  She grabbed his face, kissing him before he could step away.  He did, though, quickly.

Bianca Davri scowled at him.

Well… shit.


	9. Ass Deep in Nugshit

“What are you  _ doing _ here?” he hissed, dragging her out of the center of the room and towards the fireplace he usually lurked around.

“Well it’s nice to see you too.” she growled, clearly annoyed.

“Well?” he said, fighting to keep his eyes from darting around to look for his Seeker.  It was all going to come down on his head.

“I discovered where the Red Lyrium is coming from, I thought you’d like to know.”

Well...shit.  That was a good reason.  Still… “I appreciate the warning but you shouldn’t have come here yourself. What if the guild found out or… what’s his name?”  Not that he really cared about her husband.  He was more concerned with his own skin.

Her eyebrow twitched, amusement pulling at the corner of her mouth.  His heart gave a little lurch, the impulse to kiss the smile right off her face pushed firmly down.  “Are you worried about me or yourself?”

“A little of column A, a little of column B.   I am the expendable one, after all.”

“Awww,” she cooed, eyelashes fluttering in coquettish delight in a way that she knew bypassed his brain and went straight to his cock.  “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

The Inquisitor took that moment to approach, what was she even doing up this early?

“Well this is interesting,” Bianca said, turning her charm on the human, “you’re the Inquisitor, right?  Bianca Davri, at your service.”

Evelyn gave him a look of surprise so icy he felt his balls retract.  Yep, he was ass deep in nugshit.  With a little luck he might keep his manhood intact.

“Why do you both look like cats that got into the cream?”

“There you are!” a familiar voice called across the great hall.  Varric froze, every muscle in his body preparing to flee even though it would be of little use.  

Maybe he wasn’t keeping his bait and tackle after all.

Bianca was watching him with her clever brown eyes, studying him like one of her machines.  Whatever she saw made the flirtatious smile disappear and a flash of distaste cross her mouth before it settled behind a careful mask.

His heart was thundering in his chest like a herd of druffalo when he turned to the Seeker and introduced the woman next to him.

“Bianca?”  Cassandra said, suddenly suspicious.

“It’s a common name,” Bianca supplied in a way that said ‘ _ oh yes,  _ **_that_ ** _ Bianca _ ’.  “Half the girls in the merchant’s guild are named ‘Bianca’ and the other half ‘Helga’.  Frankly, I think I lucked out.”

“Indeed,” Cassandra said so neutrally Varric was certain she meant to kill him.  “You are a friend of Varric’s?”

“Who isn’t a friend of Varric’s?” She purred, teritorial as she turned to face the Seeker.  “You have met him before,  _ right?” _

Cassandra huffed, rolling her eyes at the woman’s obvious theatrics which only deepened the dislike on Bianca’s face.  Bianca didn't like anyone she couldn't twist around her finger.  Cassandra's eyes flickered to his and he flinched.  She wasn’t angry, she was  _ hurt _ .  Oh, that was much, much worse.

If there was a Maker he’d just open the ground and let it swallow him whole.

“Bianca’s got a lead to where Corypheus got his red lyrium.”

“The site of Bartrand’s Folly,” Bianca said, not looking away from Cassandra in challenge, “the thaig Varric found has been leaked.  There’s a deep road’s entrance crawling with strange humans carting red lyrium out by the handful.”

“And who,” Cassandra said, towering over the dwarf at his side, “could have given away its location?”

Varric, damn him, knew where the Seeker was going with this.  He couldn’t  _ not _ defend Bianca.  “There were a couple of people who knew the location.”  Cassandra’s eyes shifted back to him, cold and pained.  “A couple of expedition hirelings, friends, Sandal and his father.”

“And you?” Cassandra asked Bianca.

“I told her.” Varric sighed.

Evelyn stepped in then, putting herself between the two women.  “We need to deal with this.  So long as Corypheus has this source he’s that much more powerful.”

“I agree.” Cassandra said.  She wasn’t looking at Bianca or Varric now, turned so she couldn’t even see them in her peripheral vision.

If Varric didn’t know the woman any better he would’ve thought ‘pissed’.  But, he’d seen her softer side, knew her tender heart.  A heart she was currently building walls around.

Shit.  Just… shit.

He tried to remember to breathe as pain lanced through his chest.   _ Maker _ had it only been an hour before he’d left this beautiful woman in his bed?

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“I’ll keep an eye their operation.  If you’re interested in shutting it down you have my help.”  Bianca turned to him then, that same confident smile tweaking her lip.  “Try not to keep me waiting too long Varric, I’ve got my own work to do you know.”  Before he could stop her Bianca leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, spinning on her heel and disappearing into the morning sunlight.  He thought about chasing after her, ending things right then and there.

Except Cassandra made a sound like a wounded animal and he was turning, finding her stormy eyes filling with tears of humiliation, redness creeping up her neck as her lips twisted painfully in the tempest of her emotions.  He went to reach for her, to comfort her but she pulled back, twitching away before her fist went flying right into his jaw.

He’d never landed on his ass so hard in his life.  

He shook his head, trying to clear the swarm of stars.

“You deserved that,” Evelyn said, crouching in front of him.

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “I sure did.”

~

Wherever the Seeker had hidden from him it was a damn good spot.  He’d spent two days searching Skyhold for the woman and it wasn’t until they were leaving for the thaig that she reappeared; saddled and ready to go.

Evelyn pulled up beside him, leaning to whisper in his ear.  “She’s not hiding now.  Fix this.”

_ Maker _ he was going to try.

Their journey was silent for a long time before Dorian could stand it no longer and began a friendly chatter with Evelyn.  Cassandra and Varric trailed behind.

“She’s using you,” Cassandra said suddenly, making him jump in the saddle.

His pony gave an annoyed whicker.  “Care to elaborate?”

She looked at him then, unreadable behind her mask.  “You are the only person who’s successfully lied to me.  I can read people.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda in the title ‘Seeker of Truth’.”

Cassandra gave a soft nod, it almost felt like an olive branch… almost.  

Cassandra continued, “She is not being honest.  I believe she’s using your… affections for her against you.”

“Bianca wouldn’t do that.” Why had he said that?  Why couldn’t he just agree?  “Cassandra, I-”

“You see the best in people.  It is part of your charm.”

Now she was complimenting him which just made him feel like more of an ass.  “I’m sorry,” he managed, hanging his head to stare at his pony’s reins.

He could feel Cassandra staring at him before she finally said, “Because of what you did or because you were discovered?”

He flinched at that.  “Shit, Seeker.  You know how to bust a man’s balls.”

Her little chuckle broke some of the tension.

“I hadn’t seen her in years.  She’s married for Andraste’s sake!  But I’m not going to lie to you and say I don’t still light a candle for her, cause I do.  It’s just… impossible.  And… different now.”

When Cassandra didn’t save him from his blubbering he continued.  “I guess seeing her told me what I already knew… the Bianca I love… loved… She doesn’t exist anymore.  The woman you met isn’t the young girl who almost ran away with me.  And I’m not that same man who told her to stay to prevent a clan war.  Shit.”  He scrubbed at his face, suddenly feeling his age.  “I’m too old for this.”

He jumped when her armoured hand slid over his; but then he was clutching it in desperation.

She spoke softly, her shin nudging his as they rode closely.  “I only lay with one other man before you, he was a mage - killed at the explosion at Haven.  I love him still.”

Varric nodded, understanding.  “I’ve been meaning to end it.  It’s just hard to meet and it’s not something I want to do through a letter.”

Her hand squeezed his gently.

“Can you forgive me?” he sighed.

She was silent for a long time.  “Truly?  I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” Varric managed, rubbing at the ache in his chest.

“It would be easier if I hated you.  But, I do not.  Still I will not fight for you like a dog for scraps.  If you wish to be with me then free yourself of your past.  Then, we shall see.”

“Yeah,” Varric said, releasing her hand.

By the time they reach the entrance to the Deep Roads Varric was practically vibrating he was so worked up.

“Finally!” Bianca’s familiar squeak reached him from the darkness, making him jump out of his skin.  “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“No one said you had to hang out in the creepy cave while you waited.”

“Well I did wait, so let’s make this quick.  These idiots are carrying the red lyrium out in  _ unprotected _ containers.  We don’t want to stick around long enough for it to start talking to us.”

Cassandra caught up with them, having trailed behind to guard their backs.  When Bianca caught sight of the Seeker the icy rage the filled her eyes was fucking palpable.  Varric took a step to the right, putting himself between her and Cassandra.

Bianca’s eyes turned to him, a little cock of her head as if she was trying to decide if he was keeping the peace or choosing sides.

“We better get moving,” he said, deliberate and clear.

The dragged their happy asses through half a crumbled thaig and at every turn Bianca was practically pissing up his leg to mark him as hers.  Bring up the past.  Her feelings.  She couldn’t have been oblivious to his curt, polite answers but she persisted like a dog with a bone.  That sort of bombastic stubbornness is what made her such an incredible smith.  Right now though?  He was hoping for the ceiling to collapse on his head. 

The moment Bianca said ‘I built these doors’ Varric knew he was in the shit.  He glanced at the Seeker, her wary expression turned hostile.

“And just how,” Cassandra growled, hand going to her sword in a nervous gesture, “did you have such time to make modifications?”

Oh and Bianca had a pretty little lie all wrapped up in a bow and ready to go.  But it was a lie.  Cassandra knew it.  He knew it.

Really he wasn’t that shocked when it turned out she’d started all this.  How many times had he nearly died pulling her ass out of the fire?  That he’d told her in confidence and she used that to further her ambition?  That hurt.

“Give me a minute.” he said, heading back towards the door just so he didn’t have to watch her spin anymore stories.  Was this what Cassandra felt like when he lied to her?  If so he swore to himself he’d never do it again.

“Varric!” Bianca hissed.

“He said,” It was Cassandra, her voice stony in the cave, “to give him a minute.”

There was a scuffling sound as he was turning around, ready to throw himself between the two women when he heard Bianca say, “You really think he’s going to choose you over me?  You’re delusional.”

He saw them then, Cassandra standing back regal as a queen but her jaw was clenched with emotions.  Probably Bianca’s words hitting close to the mark, she was good at spitting poison just as much as pretty little falsehoods.  Bianca, she was crouched, ready to reach for her bow.

“Bianca.” he said, the threat clear in his voice.

“What’s it going to be Varric?” she smirked, cocky and brash.  Even with the distance between them she couldn’t conceive of a world where she didn’t come out on top.  

He sighed.  “I choose myself, Bianca.  I choose a life free of this.”  he gestured hopelessly between them.  “It’s over.  Go home to... what's his name.”

“No,” she shook her head, disbelieving.

“It’s over, Bianca.  Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Harder than…?  For her?”  She stalked over to him and Cassandra’s hand was on her sword-hilt now.  “This isn’t over.  We’ll see how you feel when she leaves you for some blond chevalier.  Fifteen years, Varric!”

Damn him.  Even knowing she was manipulating him seeing the tears well in her eyes made him want to reach out.  He patted her shoulder but she pushed him away.  He caught his balance before he stumbled too far back

_ “You will learn.” _ she hissed in old dwarven as she passed him.  He didn’t even think he’d remember most his lessons on the language.  He’d heard that phrase often enough though, shouted by assassins sent after him.

“Are you alright?” the Inquisitor asked.

“Let’s just go.”  As they left the cave, Bianca was nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has been plotted to the end, just a few more chapters to go. Then part two will be on its way!


	10. Tremulous and Tender

Varric was on edge.  Pacing restlessly along the battlements.  He’d asked Cassandra to meet him here but he wasn’t sure she’d come.  The spot was secluded, rarely patrolled as it faced an impassible peak and sported a crumbling wall nearby.  But it offered a glorious view of the sunset.

His heart nearly stopped when a crown of black hair rose into view as the Seeker ascended the stairs.   _ “Maker,” _ he breathed for what felt like the first time in hours.

“Varric,” she said, her eyes cautious as she came to join him.  She wasn’t in her armor, that had to be a good sign.  Though she wore the padded tunic still.  He’d gotten a table and two chairs out here and he lit the candle now, sheltering it quickly in the milky glass to protect it from the wind.

She sat as he held out her chair for her.

“What are you up to?” she eyed him, suspicious.

“Trying to earn the favor of a lady I don’t deserve.” he said, popping open the wine and properly decanting it.  Never thought he’d use that bit of knowledge,  _ thanks Sparkler _ .

She smiled, shaking her head.

He laid out the food then, little things that made no sense on a plate together… except they were all Cassandra’s favorite foods.  They ate in silence for some time, drinking the wine and eventually talking about little things.  Things that didn’t matter.  Things that wouldn’t hurt.

“What will you do after this is over?  Assuming you aren’t elected Divine?” He asked as she picked up a fluffy Antivan treat with lemons in it.

“I-” She sighed heavily.  “I will not be Divine.”

“Oh?” he said, feeling his eyebrows try to crawl into his scalp.  “And why is that?  Last time I checked you were high up on the short list.”

She looked at him, her eyes soft in the warmth of the setting sun.  “I should let you suffer more.”

“Seeker-”

“I do not like that nickname,” she growled.

His breath caught, hopeful.  Her words felt like forgiveness.  “Princess.” he breathed.

Cassandra’s mouth split in a happy grin before her teeth caught her bottom lip, a blush staining her cheeks.  Damn him but his hands were shaking.

He stood up, trembling legs carrying him around the table.  She turned to him and Varric grasped her hands like a lifeline.  “Tell me I’m reading this right.”  

He swallowed against the dryness in his throat.

Cassandra leaned in then, pressing her forehead to his.  “I asked Evelyn to support another for the position.”

“Why?” he said, cupping her face.  “Why would you do that?”  He barely heard his own voice, his chest too tight to speak properly.

“Because I cannot give my heart and soul to the Chantry when another has already claimed it.”

Some freaky magic must have suddenly changed the laws of gravity because this felt like the Fade all over again.  The world seemed to suddenly pivot and flip of its own accord and he wasn’t sure which way was up anymore.

“Varric,” Cassandra said, nosing at his temple, “say something.”

“Wh-” he stuttered, “what was the question?”

She giggled.  “I did not ask one.”

He laughed, hands gripping her biceps encase gravity forgot itself again.  They really should be doing this inside, at least inside there were ceilings encase he floated away.

“I love you.” she said, leaning in to nip at his lip.

“Yesss,” he breathed, hands sliding up to grip her face.  “I love you too, so damn much.”

Her eyes were watery but crinkled in joy and he knew he was smiling like a maniac because his entire face was beginning to hurt.

“Take me to bed, dwarf,” she growled, a hint of the bossy Seeker in the tone.

“Yes, ma’am.”  He blew out the candle and took her hand, dragging her along behind him as they made their way to his chambers.  He’d already paid some of the castle servants to clean up his little party so he didn’t feel too bad about leaving it all behind. 

It took them forever to reach his room.  They kept stopping to kiss and touch until one of them would take it too far and they’d remember themselves and stumble along.  Finally, the Seeker was pressing him up against the roughened wood of his door, pushing into his space and assaulting his mouth like breaching force.

He held on, powerful emotions swirling and cresting in his chest until he was shaking against you.  “I love you,” he whispered to her between one kiss and the next, “I love you.”

“Key, Varric,” she snarled before claiming his mouth once more.  

He fumbled for the damn bit of metal amongst his numerous pockets.  Hawke had told him once you couldn’t be a proper rouge without at least twenty pockets and now he was cursing every single one.  Finally he pulled the damn thing free and extricated himself from the wonder of Cassandra’s lips to jam the key in the lock and open the door.

They tumbled into his chambers, arms pulling off clothes and fingers plucking laces until Cassandra was laying on his bed and he was peeling her leggings and smalls off.  _ Andraste preserve him _ , but he’d never get used to the punch of arousal he got at the sight of her naked and kiss swollen amongst the sanguine silk of his bedsheets.

“Varric,” she whimpered, shattered and needy.

He was with her then, her long creamy arms wrapped around his freckled skin.  Cassandra was cleaving to him, tremulous in her arousal.

“I’m here, princess.”

They kissed like they were dying, like they were drowning and the only air there was was in each other’s lungs.  Tongues swirled and danced, hands skidded over flesh grasping for a nearness that was physically impossible.

“Please Varric,” she gasped against his ear, her voice soft and tender, “I need you inside me.”

“Fuck.” he gasped, her plea lancing like a shooting star through his gut.

She rolled away, drawing him to her until he nestled between her legs.  His cock was hard, leaking trails of precome over her thighs as they slotted together.  His mouth worked wet trails across her shoulder, down to the swell of her breasts as she rocked her clit against the head of his cock.  She was so hot, so wet where their sexes touched, nudging in aborted half thrusts.

“So damn beautiful,” he worshipped into her skin, licking a hardened bud into his mouth while rolling the other nipple with his fingers.  She was so sensitive here, gasping and arching into the contact.  Her mewling little cries driving him wild.

_ Void take him _ , he was so worked up he was gonna spill himself like it was his first time.  

He wanted to touch her, to plunge his fingers in her and ensure her release because he wasn’t sure he could hold off once he was buried in the incredible satin warmth of her.  As he reached to do just that she grabbed his hand, pulling it to him mouth to spread gentle kisses.

“I want you inside me.” she breathed against his knuckles her hips hitching in a way that told him exactly what part of him she wanted.

_ “Andraste’s sainted ass,” _ he groaned, closing his eyes and pressing his overheated face against her cool skin.  His self control was on a knife edge and the Seeker had no idea how crazed she was making him.  “Cassandra… fuck… I’m so close and you saying that…”

His hands were shaking against her hips as his fingers dug into the soft swells there.

“Varric,” she breathed his name with such tenderness he nearly broke.  

Having her back was everything and he felt utterly unworthing.

“Talk to me?” she whispered against the calluses on his trigger hand, her long fingers soothing over his pulse point.

“What do you want me to say, darling?”

She shrugged, a blush staining her cheek.  “Your voice… it affects me.”

That compliment, so simple yet effective, should not have made a maddening happiness swell in his chest.  Yet he was grinning against her sternum, dragging his nose up the hard plane before tilting his head back and offering her a smile.

“Princess…” 

He kissed along her stomach, speaking sweet nothings into her flesh until he suddenly realized there was something he did need to say, desperately.

“You had it right, you know;” he said against her ribs, hanging onto her encase she fled from his words, “I am a liar.  I always have been a liar.”

“Varric…” she hissed.

“But I had a moment recently...  It’s not cute, you know?” he braved it then, looking into her face.  Maker’s blessing it was a neutral look, not judging but accepting.  “Not when you love the person and you suddenly feel you can’t trust a word they’re saying to you.”  

He didn’t say  _ Bianca _ but they both knew it, Varric could read it in the flash of anger across her brow.

“It’s not gonna be easy, I’ve always spun stories to get myself out of shit.  Probably still will try to.  But if it is you asking,” he sighed, shifting up enough to accept the gentle press of her kiss against his, “if it’s the woman I love then I’m gonna try and stop myself.  Be honest with the one person in the world who matters.  

“And if you think I’m doing it I want you to call me on it because I’m not losing you because of this shit.  Maker knows I don’t deserve you, but I want to.  I want to be worthy of you.”

He definitely didn’t  _ squeal _ in surprise when she hauled him up, winding her legs around his hips and plundered his mouth.  She tasted like happiness, smile tugging at her lips as she swept hers over his in that raw passionate way that made his cock stand up and salute.  

He had flagged a little during his confession, fear overriding arousal but it was back now and burning through him.

Cassandra twisted her hips and rolled him beneath her.   _ Fuck _  but that shouldn’t be so hot.  

For a moment Varric thought about all those poor sods who never dared to woo this phenomenal woman because of the power in her muscles and the steel in her gaze.  Those idiots who’d called her “ice queen” behind her back who’d never know this gentle, ardent, fierce creature who’d stolen his heart.  Her strength both physical and emotional is what made her perfect for him because he  was the kind of idiot that if he surrounded himself with too many sycophants he’d probably let it go to his head.  Cassandra, despite being a huge fan if his work, was never going to be that.  She’d knock him upside the head if he was being idiot.  She was what he needed.

The sudden sensation of her sliding down onto his cock made him cry out, arching into the electric heat of her.

“I love you, Varric,” she breathed against his mouth as her hips rolled out a sinuous rhythm on his cock.

He planted his feet, giving her more leverage as she rode him.  It was delicious, the tight silk of her body as it clenched around him, the grind of her pelvis that told him she was seeking her release.

He palmed her ass, lending his strength to make the movements a little more powerful while keeping them sealed together until she was gasping and shuddering.  Her rhythm stumbled but he kept it going until he wrenched a mewl of pleasure from her lips.

“Come on, Cassandra,” he encouraged, “come for me.”

And she was, so he shift his weight to settle it a little more firmly, thrusting up into her now as she balanced on his chest, her nails scoring through his hair.  She came again like that, head thrown back as she cried out.

He was close again, his orgasm burning in his gut as he chased the clenching of her muscles around him.

“Come inside me Varric,” she urged over the slapping sounds of their bodies.  “Please.”

And he did.  As if he could ever deny the woman he loved?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just two more chapters to go people! Sorry this one is so short!


	11. All My Heart's Devotion

The end of the fucking world.  Varric’s heart dropped into his stomach everytime he thought about it, the army unusually silent on its march to where it all began leaving him brooding in his own mind… The Temple of Sacred Ashes.

Thinking of the first time he’d been there, exhausted from travel and then the Maker-cursed sky opened and started pissing demons onto their heads.  The whole time he’d been so twisted up with fear and respect and painful fucking arousal for the Seeker that he’d wondered if it wasn’t better to just kiss her and let her take his head off at the shoulders.  Better that than dying at the hands of a demon’s claws.

Now she was his, and he, hers.  The world was ending and they were ass deep in demons  _ and _ Red Templars.  All he wanted to do was lock her away and keep her safe.  

She’d kick his ass for it.

Didn’t make him want to do it any less, especially knowing she was joining the Inquisitor against the blighted-Magister himself.  When Evelyn had announced her team it had shattered him, he wanted to argue; to force her to take him as well.  Better to be beside the woman he loves.  Then he saw Cullen draw Evie into a pained embrace, a mirror of his own grief and he bit his tongue.  How many times had the Commander sent the woman he loved into battle?  He could do this.

At least he’d gotten the past few weeks with Cassandra.  A man like him didn’t deserve to be the kind of happy she made him.  He was trying to be worthy of it.

“Varric,” Cassandra said, reaching to hold his hand where it was clutching the saddle.  Even now, when battle and death lay before them, her voice made him smile.  She was the only one who could draw him from himself.

“Cass,” he breathed, lifting her gloved hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss into the leather palm.

“I will return to you,” she soothed.

He drew off his glove and slipped his fingers beneath the sleeve of her tunic to rub circles at the pulse point there.

“I swear it,” she said when he did not answer.

Varric breathed in the scent of her, forming it in his mind so that he might remember.  Not that he thought he’d need it, not truly.  If she fell there would be no ‘after’ for him.

“I swear,” she vowed once more.  Varric wanted to believe her but fear clutched his heart.

In the end the battle to save the world was much like others.  It felt almost anticlimactic, even with the dragons roaring overhead.  No one fell into the Fade.  No armies of demons. No blood magic or ancient elves.  It was practically,  _ normal _ .  Whatever that meant.

He stayed in the thick of it, Krem having plastered himself against Varric’s back while he took down waves of Templars and ok… there were a few demons.

When the dragon fell he couldn’t help himself but look up to where the Inquisitor was fighting, seeing the glittering flash of a shield before Krem blocked an arrow aimed at his face and growled for his focus.

Focus, right.  Focus.

He was exhausted by the time the remains of Corypheus’ army quit the field, Cullen ordering the troops to stand down and not give chase.  The battle was won, everyone had seen the Breach sealed once more.  There was nothing for the fleeing soldiers to rally around.  There would be time later to hunt them down and end their miserable lives.

As he pushed through the crowd, Bull at his back making it easier to move through the gathered men,  his heart thundered madly in his chest.

And there, behind the Inquisitor, was Cassandra… his Cassandra… grinning like a madwoman. 

She ran into his arms and  _ Maker knows _ he could not have been happier, more relieved.  There wasn’t much to do for them in the aftermath of the battle but they lingered with their friends as the names of the dead were gathered.

Eventually, they went to their tent and made love.  It was the kind of coupling that spoke to both hope and grief.  He was as tender with Cassandra as she was rough, breaking down the walls of anxiety and sorrow with slow inexorable affection until she broke apart and cried.

He held her, cradled her close like the treasure she was to him.

It was days later, but still many days from returning to Skyhold, that they curled up together yet again. Cassandra was restless, her body tight with tension despite the sex.

“Copper for your thoughts, Princess?”

She sighs, sitting up on her elbow to look at him. “What now for us, Varric?  Will you return to Kirkwall?”

“I was considering it.  They want me to be Viscount.  Guess I got to settle down sometime.  Can’t be having gorgeous women dragging me over the ass end of Thedas all the time.” He gives her a roguish wink but she doesn’t smile, too lost in her thoughts. Hunh.  “I was hoping you’d come with me.  Rebuild the Seekers like you’ve wanted, yeah, but call Kirkwall home.” 

“I do not believe I will have time to rebuild the Seekers.”

“You could make time…”

Cassandra gave an annoyed huff. “My priorities have changed.”

Oh shit. She was gonna be Divine. She was saying goodbye.

“I am with child.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I am with child, Varric. Your child.”

Well, shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it lovelies! There will be a part two but I am ass deep in a few marvel fics. If you want to chat at me my tumblr is: www.tumblr.com/blog/wonderdyke  
> Also, I am looking for someone to beta and/or brit pick some things for me so if you like my writing and are interested you can find me there!


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